MELINKAH
by mabb5
Summary: He had seen five lights.  Now the challenge was gone.  So Madred shipped him off to a new life 'of comfort and scholarly reflection' on a Cardassian planet that was far, far away from the Federation.  An a/u sequel to Chain of Command.


_**He had seen five lights. Now the challenge was gone. So Madred shipped him off to a new life 'of comfort and scholarly reflection'**_ _**on a Cardassian planet that was far, far away from the Federation. An a/u sequel to Chain of Command.**_

_**The original version of this story was first published in the fanzine INVOLUTION 10 in 1996. Since Orion Press no longer posts its TNG stuff, I'm listing it here.**_

_**The story has been edited and considerably expanded and rewritten compared to the original printed version. It's now more of a novella.**_

_**Though the story does contain scenes of torture and sex, they are non-graphic. There is an incident of foul language.**_

_**This A/U story is in a universe all by itself. It is not part of the universe that I created for the novels BEST LAID PLAN and THE SKY'S THE LIMIT which are also here on fanfic.**_

_**As always, any commentary would be appreciated.**_

_**The usual disclaimers apply. **_

_**MELINKAH**_

(An Alternate Universe sequel to the episode "Chain of Command")

"_There are five lights!"_

He shuddered as he gasped those words, speaking with all the remnants of strength that he could muster.

Gul Madred had won.

Picard now had to convince Madred that he would submit. That he had surrendered.

Madred looked down at his trembling captive. He had finally broken this most difficult of prisoners. He disguised his sense of triumph behind a cool look.

Picard croaked again, panicking. _**"There are five lights!"**_

This time, Gul Madred permitted himself a tight little smile of success. And then he pushed the button, holding his digit tightly against it. His smile broadened as he watched Picard writhe in agony on the floor, until his prisoner no longer had the strength to move in spite of the agonizing pain he was undergoing. He observed that Picard seemed to be conscious, though he was too weak to do anything more than gasp. And then he put down his instrument control of torture.

"Ah, Jean-Luc Picard. You will remember me, I think." Madred walked around his desk, leaned over the man on the floor and watched him. Picard's movements were autonomic now, with the shaking that came from the aftershocks of this latest torture. He kicked Picard's rib with his boot, but the prisoner had not the strength to react. Madred heard another bone break.

"Ah, my brave, most noble captain - considering where you are going, you might actually one day call my treatment _merciful."_

Glin Tajor entered and then abruptly stopped, hiding his surprise at the condition of the human on the floor. He looked almost dead. "Your orders, Gul Madred?"

Madred picked up an information chip and tossed it to the glin. "Remove him." As Tajor nodded in compliance to the grappos soldiers that had followed behind him into the room, Madred spoke, almost as if to himself. "Let us see how much this fine, high-minded, noble Starfleet officer enjoys the company of Melinkah."

Tajor understood his orders and did as his superior commanded. But there was a part of him that questioned Gul Madred's decision. Starfleet would not easily forget the existence of a captain of Jean-Luc Picard's stature. And to send Picard away to live with Melinkah, could have serious career repercussions someday in the future. Tajor, from this moment on, gave verbal commands only. Let the formal records show that the fate of Jean-Luc Picard had been so ordered solely by Gul Madred.

=/\=

It was the cold metal pressed against his cheek more so than the thrum of the laboring engines that brought him to wakefulness. Cautiously he opened his eyes and assessed what he could of his situation. Turning slightly, he relaxed his chest against the metal floor, the coolness bringing relief to his fevered naked body. He was in some sort of open storage area. And judging by the sound of the engines, he suspected that he was in some sort of shuttle craft. Rolling some more, acknowledging to himself what an effort this movement took, he was able to see beyond the open hatch to where three Cardassians were seated at the front of the craft. They were not watching him. And he ruefully understood why. Even though he was their prisoner, he had no reservoirs of strength left. Picard doubled if he could even stand, much less mount a successful attack against his enemies. And he knew that they knew it, too. The Cardassians were experts at torture and its expected results.

Time passed, unmonitored by Picard, as pain claimed him. Eventually, one of the Cardassians noticed that he was almost conscious, and came over to savagely kick him in the ribs. He said something in Cardassian. The other two Cardassians laughed.

Picard did not understand the words but he knew their laughter was at his expense. He did not care, so long as they did not hurt him again.

Moments later, strong hands hauled him to an upright, sitting position. A rough cloth was thrown into his face. Picard weakly removed this dark red fabric from his head, then looked at what he was holding in his hands. He did not understand what he was supposed to do with this piece of material. Then the same hands pulled him into an unwilling standing position. Only by leaning against the bulkhead was Picard able to stay erect.

The Cardassian spoke again to his comrades. This time Picard made out enough of the words to guess at what the Cardassian was saying. And he had to agree with the Cardassian. Picard did stink.

Half-stumbling, half-leaning against the guard, Picard was shoved into a cleaning cubicle. Somehow he found the energy to actually use it and its sonic works. For the first time in days (or was it weeks?) Picard felt almost human.

When he emerged from the waterless cubicle with the cloth wrapped about his hips, he met his Cardassian guard. He was forced to sit on the floor again. Picard recognized the futility of any foolish protests.

Time passed. Picard did not care. Other than breathing, he did not even have the energy to think, only to conserve what was left of his strength.

The floor tilted, and then the craft bumped, skittered and lurched before settling down. Calmly noting the poor piloting skills, the only thing that truly concerned Picard was that he would now learn what Gul Madred intended. That essence of soul that was Picard would not survive continued inhumane treatment at the hands of the Cardassians. The Borg had taught him that sometimes death was preferable to living. Gul Madred's actions had been a further lesson. Considering Madred's parting words, Picard resigned himself to his fate hoping that he had enough strength left to force an immediate, swift death. The ever present agonizing pain no longer concerned him. It was now a constant of his existence. But the loss of his sense of identity would kill his soul…

In spite of expectations, he was unprepared for what awaited him: a class M planet. But it was barren, hot, an inferno with winds mercilessly howling, and flailing scourging sands against exposed, tortured flesh.

He could not stand. Two of the guards picked him up and flung him out of the hatch. The pain when he landed, was agonizing. Struggling to breathe, collapsed against the unwelcoming burning hot ground, he was unsure if the now-blasting sands were caused by the wind, or by the hasty departure of the shuttle craft.

He weakly lifted his head up to look about the landscape revealed by the harshest of scorching suns. He had seen such hells before, most recently Lambda Paz with Wesley Crusher. _This place was worse_.

But Jean-Luc Picard was puzzled. Surely Gul Madred had not intended such a simple death for him? Already perilously dehydrated from his time of torture, having also had nothing sustaining to eat for almost as long a period of time, Picard could not understand why Madred had chosen this type of death for him. Considering his weakened physical condition, if he lasted two days before death claimed him, it would be an unwanted, torturous occurrence.

With a Herculean effort, he forced himself to sit up, shielding his eyes with his hand. One direction revealed nothing but what appeared to be silicon based seas of sand. Behind him was an undulating hilly skyline with scattered rock outcroppings. He could see no vegetation of any kind. Or shelter. His puzzlement grew over Madred's actions.

He could not shake the thought that this kind of death was too easy. _It wasn't painful enough… Degrading enough…_

He collapsed again against the sand, covering his head with his arms, and waited. He was unsure of time's passage, unable to calculate which would occur first: his death or nightfall. He had a slim chance for survival, provided that the cold of night was not equal to the harsh heat of day. But if he could survive until the sunset, maybe, just maybe, he would have the ability to stumble or crawl to the closest rocks. Those rocks would be a poor shelter at best, but better to die there than sprawled in defeat where the Cardassians had tossed him.

He wasn't sure what alerted him to the possibility that he was no longer alone. Struggling to look about, he finally saw the figure standing against the skyline, flanked by what appeared to be some sort of large, equinus animal. For a brief instant, he was reminded of stories of a place called Ceti Alpha V and what had befallen another former captain of the _Enterprise_. But this figure with its swirling white robes and unidentifiable animal, if indeed they really did exist, was not Kahn. He wondered if the madness that came with heat stroke and water deprivation had finally claimed him.

This was an odd sight to hallucinate. Picard would have preferred that his last conscious vision to be of the heavens. _Or Beverly…_

He awoke, and realized that he was stuck in a very uncomfortable position. Something, that he suspected by its very position was a pommel, was rubbing raw against his thighs and genitals, with every jolt of the beast. Every broken bone in his body bounced. The pain was excruciating. He tried to move. For his efforts he was rewarded with a hard slap against his right ear, and a stern guttural warning of "No!"And then a strong arm went about his neck, squeezing him backwards, forcing him to trust the other rider to keep him from falling off.

Then the beast's gait changed. The arm pressing against his chest suddenly started to bounce, jabbing an elbow into the cracked ribs and flesh tortured by Madred's device. Picard's last conscious thought, as the pain washed through him one time too many, was that his rescuer was a female.

=/\=

The days passed. Picard had no real sense of time, drifting in and out of consciousness, sometimes almost aware of his surroundings, but most of the time too ill and weak to care.

He was naked, now. And this became normal. At first, he thought he was in some kind of hospital ward, for there was a doctor. And this man was always furious. The pain continued even when the Cardassian went away. Eventually, there was a woman who came and bathed him, and fed him broth, a trembling spoonful at a time.

And the pain slowly subsided.

He was moved. This time, into a room of cool shadows defined by controlled, diffused lighting. Eventually, Picard came to recognize that the Cardassians were very precise with their arrangements of lights and shadows.

Now, he rested on a platform covered with soft material, cool to the touch, soothing, comfortable. The woman kept disturbing him, tending to him. Helping him with his ablutions. Then feeding him, even when he only craved sleep. After a while, he began to notice her and his surroundings.

"Who are you?" he asked, one day or night, for in this darkened chamber, he did not always know. "Where am I?"

She said nothing. She left him. And he slept some more.

The next time he opened his eyes, he thought he was alone. Sitting up by his own power for the first time since coming here, he looked about the chamber, now studying it with a detached sense of analytical curiosity. He vaguely remembered Madred's promise of a simple life, and now wondered if the Gul had actually kept it.

He moved, sliding his legs off the platform, discarding the cloth that someone had used to cover his hips. He was still naked. And there was pain. Unlike Gul Madred's torture chamber though, he was now clean, and he had been fed. Thirst was no longer his greatest concern.

Picard placed his feet on the floor and tried to stand. His legs collapsed beneath him, and he tumbled, limbs akimbo, onto the flag stone floor. Unhurt, but disgusted with himself, he braced himself upright with his forearms, and leaned back against the solid platform base that was his bed. He looked about and realized that there were steps surrounding this platform. In front of him, a wood table flanked by columns stood by a solid stone wall. To the sides were more columns mounted with flowing dark drapes covering what he could only assume were ways out of the large room. He turned his head, trying to look behind his back, when he saw her, the woman who had been tending to him.

She seemed to be asleep, lying on her side on the nearest step to the platform, under the overhanging rim of the platform. Though the room was dark, stray light from a torchieres fell on her, illuminating her face. He was surprised. She was much younger than he had previously thought; perhaps she was still a teenager. She was humanoid, with long, dark hair that tumbled about. And though he noticed all of this, his only feeling was a primal one. _Anger_. He had questions, and the source of those answer was quietly sleeping.

He reached over and struck her shoulder.

Her eyes opened, and saw him near her on the floor. For a moment, she seemed confused, then pleased, to see him conscious. And then she saw his expression and responded to the anger in his eyes. Her face became shuttered, blank.

"No!"

She stood, pointing to his bed.

"Sit!"

For a moment, he forgot himself, and was amused that this young woman dared to issue orders to the captain of the _Enterprise._ And then he remembered. And he tried to stand. He could not.

She came to him and helped ease him back up onto the bed. Then she turned and left him sitting upright, frustrated, alone with his unanswered questions.

A while later she returned, carrying a tray with a bowl and a tankard. She handed him the bowl. He waited a moment, expecting her to say something.

"Adas." She nodded at the bowl.

He looked down at the food and was surprised to see some sort of stew instead of broth. He tasted it and found it to be bland, unidentifiable, and nourishing. His appetite stirred. He didn't look up at her again until he finished every spoonful of the stew. She handed him the tankard.

"Murri."

And then she left him alone.

Trusting the fates that it would not be poison, he drank deeply from the pottery vessel, startled to discovered that it was some sort of cool milk drink, sweetly flavored with unknown spices. It was good.

This time, when she returned, moving silently, her sandals making little noise against the stone flooring, she was carrying a white cloth. Following her were two males, humanoid, but not Cardassian or obviously Terran. She said nothing to him, instead directing the men to a place behind one of the dark red draperies. He realized that she was speaking in some dialect of Cardassian.

The two men hoisted Picard up by the arms, half carrying him. Picard did not protest. If he was to be harmed, there was little he could do to prevent it. He was still too feeble. But he did not think that she would have fed him and then arrange for his death.

The alcove behind the curtains was dark. Only three lit torchieres, and a small brazier in a corner, provided any illumination. The men then dumped Picard into a pool of water. Sputtering instinctively when his head surfaced above the water, Picard soon realized that he was in some sort of spacious, deep pool of warm, scented water. After exploring the immediate boundaries, he looked over at the two men. "What am I supposed to do here? Bathe? If so, I need soap."

One of the men grunted, apparently understanding Federation Standard, and motioned toward a shelf by a side of the pool near a waterfall. On it were cloths, lotions, and bars of something that Picard assumed was soap. He picked up one of the small, brown bars and sniffed it. He thought he smelled sage. The scent was pleasant. He washed himself and then floated over to the small waterfall flowing down a wall, and rinsed himself again. He looked about. And realized that beyond the falls, he could see a small garden where the water streams flowed. For a moment, the colors of the flowers captured his soul. The he looked down on his pale, damaged body. And tried to stand. The attendants pulled him up and he was hauled out of the pool and then wrapped in the soft cloth that the woman had provided. He was carried to the platform bed without explanation.

And so, Jean-Lu Picard sat there, calmly gazing at the woman, for the two men had disappeared as soon as they had deposited him on the bed.

"What now?"

Instead of speaking, she whirled about. Her beige, tabord style overdress flapped against her bare calves. For a moment, she was gone, And then she was back, this time bearing a plate and a spoon. He took it from her and sniffed it before he tried a spoonful. He didn't recognize the fruit that made up this warm compote, but it was good. Tart and honeyed. And he ate it until the plate was clean.

After removing the plain tan pottery plate from his still unsteady hands, she shoved him backward onto the platform.

"Rest."

He looked at her for a moment, considering some of the reasons as to why she would not answer his questions, and then tried again. "Your name?"

She covered him with a blanket, and then walked away toward a curtain.

"Sajah." She spoke softly before she disappeared behind the curtain.

And he had to be content with this one word.

Hours later, he rolled over onto his side, wondering if he should attempt to relieve himself without assistance. The pool alcove beckoned with its facilities. Moving slowly, with careful determination, he sat upright, swung his feet over the edge of the bed, and tried to stand. This time his efforts were rewarded. His knees did not buckle beneath him. Hesitantly, awkwardly, he lurched toward the alcove, using whatever furniture or columns he could grab, for support. After he achieved his objective and used the facilities, he rested for a while. Since he was alone, he could admit to himself just how weak and unsure of himself and exhausted it was that he really felt. He contemplated the fact that he now had to journey back to his bed. He decided to rest for awhile longer before he attempted such a feat.

And then she was there, standing in front of him. For a second, he thought he saw a smile of approval in her dark eyes. But he wasn't sure. She shook her head as if he were a small child to be chastised. And then she offered him her assistance. Sighing, knowing that to refuse would be foolish, he accepted her offer, putting aside the white cloth that he had considered using as a covering, accepting the fact that at the moment, he was more likely to trip over the loose material rather than to successfully wear it.

Once he was flat on his back on the bed, he closed his eyes for a minute, waiting for her to leave as she had done before. When he could discern no movement anywhere in the room, he looked about. Where had Sajah gone? Then he saw her, lying underneath the foot of the bed. He sat up with more energy than he had thought possible.

"No! Sajah!"

Surprised as the commanding tone of his voice, she rose up, looking at him, puzzled.

"Have you no place else to sleep?"

She shook her head.

"Join me."

For a moment, he imagined that he saw fear cross her face. But then her features assumed their now-familiar placid blank attitude. She sat by the edge of the platform. Considering the size of the platform, half a dozen Nausicaans could sleep on it in comfort, much less two fairly small humans.

"Come, lie by me." He spoke calmly as if by words alone he could reassure her that he was no threat. She complied as if she had no choice, lying on her side away from him. But he saw her trembling. He reached over and lightly touched her sleeve. "Sleep." And then he stretched out next to her, pulling up the blanket. He tried to smile, but he was out of practice for such a normal gesture. "Sleep, Sajah."

And when he was reposed, she slowly inched away from him, until she was sure that he would not grab her. He somehow sensed that it would be a long time before she relaxed on this platform. Willing himself to return to the peace of Morpheus, he could not help but wonder about what had brought her to this place, and the forces that controlled her. _Were they all prisoners together? _He suspected that this was the truth of it.

Hours later, she shook him awake.

"What?" he grumbled, having become accustomed to sleeping as he wanted.

"Melinkah. She comes."

He could hear some sort of fear in her voice. And he remembered where he had heard this name before. He suspected that they both now had reasons to know fear.

She tugged him into a sitting position and then assisted him over to a sabre legged armchair near a small gueridon style stand. The chair was metal and seemed colder than other objects he'd encountered in the room. Still, he was offered no clothing, and he accepted this fact of Cardassian hospitality. They did not wait long.

An imperial Cardassian woman of unknown age entered, halting at the uppermost step of the half-staircase descending into the room. Silvered black hair combed tightly into an upward swirl was half-covered with a hood having glinting silver liripiping. Elegant robes of ivory trimmed in tiraz bands of hammered silver glyphs swirled about her towering form. Imposing molten silver marcasite eyes looked down on him, capturing him, commanding him to acknowledge her presence.

Picard instantly recognized that this was the Amazon who had rescued him from the desert, though she had yet to say a word. Behind him, he could sense that Sajah was tense, perhaps even frightened. Bracing himself he stood, silently admitting her power over him. He nodded slightly toward her, as if they had just been politely introduced.

"I am Captain Jean-Luc Picard of the Federation. I claim protection under the terms of the Seldonis IV Convention." His gaze was calm, as if he did not fear her and only sought to impress her with his seriousness.

She laughed. Out loud. Highly amused by his impertinence, she bent a little. "I can only guess what Madred did to you and told you, Captain Picard. Knowing Madred, I fear that he had little use for your Seldonis Convention. Or for the truth." She whirled about the room, finally settling down on an a chair identical to his. "Don't bother about being a prisoner, Picard. We are _all_ prisoners here on this miserable planet."

"You are a Cardassian lady of some significance, I think."

"I think not. I am just the magistrate here, governor of this place." She laughed again. "Soon you will have to reveal to me what you did to Madred in order for that Gul to send you here, Captain Picard. You must have annoyed him rather greatly." He stood facing her, instinctively relying on the dignity that was his nature to respond to this woman. Even temporarily succumbing to Gul Madred could not destroy this inherent part of his self.

She waved her hand, still amused. But now she understood some of the demons that had driven Gul Madred to send to her this Starfleet officer in such poor condition.

"You are now a citizen in the colony of New Hebetia XII, noted for its farming community, it mines and its _hospitable_ climate. You belong to my household. When you are well, you will work among us."

He had hundreds of questions, but sensed that this lady would not answer all of them willingly. He tried anyway. "I claim the protection of the Seldonis Convention. I am a prisoner of war and request a neutral representative."

She abruptly stood up, shoving back her chair. "Enough, Picard. If you will only accept cruel truths, then so be it." She marched over to him, towering above him for she was taller than most humans - or Cardassians. "You. You no longer exist in the eyes of the Federation. The Cardassian Military will never acknowledge that you still breathe. If the Federation can even prove that Gul Madred ever had you, then the blame will be placed solely on him, and the military will disavow his actions. But, knowing Madred all too well, he'll avoid a death sentence over capturing you. His uncanny ability to survive is one of his few attributes."

Picard took a deep breath, about to demand clarification over her statements.

Instead of allowing him to speak, she motioned for Sajah to come forward. "Girl. Make this Jean Lu-cah Picard well." She paused giving her orders to glance over at Picard. "Jean-Lu-cah Picard. That is too long a name for one with such little hair as you. I shall call you Lu-Cah."

"Madame Melinkah…"

"Melinkah," she corrected him.

"Melinkah."

She moved, touching something under a fold of her robe. A moment later Picard saw it - the control for the instrument of pain that was still imbedded in his chest.

He froze, unexpected horror flooding his being as he looked upon this most despised of inventions. The confident officer he'd been portraying disappeared. He closed his eyes for a second, grimacing, knowing that he would plead for mercy if he had to do so. He couldn't live through any more of this particular kind of pain.

"Ah, you have been well trained," Melinkah whispered, sounding pleased.

Quickly moving closer to Melinkah, distracting her, Sajah bowed her head and meekly spoke. "Melinkah. If I may teach him of your ways?"

"Do so, girl." Almost tapping her finger against a button on the torture control, Melinkah moved closer to Picard, aware that his eyes were staring at what she held in her hands. "Sajah will attend to you and all of your needs. If you find that you would prefer another, you have only but to tell me when next we speak."

Picard weakly nodded in agreement, stepping aside to let the Cardassian pass by him. _He was afraid. Of her. Of the pain tool_. He admitted this to himself. _And he did not care for this self-revelation at all.._

=/\=

Will Riker finished off his synthale and mentally debated whether or not he should have another one. He looked about Ten Forward for Guinan and did not see her. And then he considered the fact that he had not seen Guinan since before Jean-Luc Picard had left the _Enterprise. _He wondered what had happened to the barkeep. Will Riker had never quite understood the arrangement that Guinan had with Captain Picard. Riker had accepted that this relationship was like air: It just was.

Sitting at his solitary table, he noticed how many people seemed to be avoiding meeting his eyes. He could remember a time in the not too distant past, that whenever he had stepped into Ten Forward, his friends and comrades would consider it an invitation to join him even if he had just glanced in their direction. Now, thanks to the change in command, he seemed to be the newly designated ship's pariah. Even the civilians were avoiding him. There were many who did not care to challenge the new captain's attitude.

Riker had been surprised when Jellico had not ordered him off the ship after the rout of the Cardassians at Minos Korva. Riker had certainly expected a quick bootkick transfer or, possibly a board of inquiry over his insubordination. Instead, Jellico seemed to issue a silent challenge as if to see which one of them would give in first - Jellico in demanding Riker to request a transfer, or Riker, asking a captain he was beginning to truly despise, for that transfer.

Riker finished his drink and decided not to embarrass anyone in the lounge with his company. He stood, stretched, nodded at Ben behind the bar, and left, slowly ambling the long way home to his quarters.

He was still the first officer of the _Enterprise_. But Jellico had changed most of his duties wherever he could. Will was no longer the officer in charge of ship's resources. That task had been assigned to Data. And Riker did not doubt that Data had been supplied with a new criteria for personnel acceptable to the captain. The kind of crew and personnel that William Riker would have picked were no longer welcome on board the _Enterprise._ Already, there had been a record number of requests for transfer off of a ship that normally only lost personnel due to the fates, attrition, family problems or promotions. _Not because of the captain. _

When he entered his quarters, Will ordered up a coffee, and settled down on his pewter grey sofa to read the one possession of Jean-Luc Picard's that he felt justified in keeping - the captain's volume of Shakespeare.

Captain Jellico had personally ordered Captain Picard's possessions to be removed from the captain's quarters, and the _Enterprise. _Will had talked to Marie to arrange for their shipment back to Château Picard. During this most difficult of conversations, Marie Picard told Commander Riker to keep the book. She had known, from Jean-Luc's communiqués, what the book had meant to her brother-in-law. She hoped that one day Shakespeare's words would come to mean something to Will Riker, too.

And, after all these years, Marie Picard with her kindness toward a man she had never met, would accomplish something that all the years of rigorous schooling, theater trips and countless late-night philosophical debates had never achieved: Will Riker began to actually like reading Shakespeare. The quiescent actor hiding in Will's soul finally heard the siren song of words that had been revered for centuries.

Rather absorbed by Prospero's fate, Will didn't really hear his doorbell chime until the second ring. Masking his annoyance at being interrupted behind his usual jovial mask, Will ordered the door to open. He wasn't that surprised to see Geordi come stomping into the room. Too many officers as of late, had been stomping a path to his door in the vain attempt to have the ship's exec try to alter one or more of Captain Jellico's commands. Will would have thought by now, word would have spread throughout the ship over his inability to change Jellico's mind about any matter, great or small. Yet the expression on Geordi's face told him otherwise.

"Can I get you something, Geordi?"

"Saurian brandy," Geordi replied, as he paced a track around a low glass table.

Somewhat surprised by his friend's order since this was the first time Riker had ever heard Geordi for a strong drink, Will paused before he started over toward the replicator.

"No. The real thing, if you've got it, Commander," Geordi quickly added, glancing toward the cupboard where he knew Will kept his private liquor supply.

"All right," Riker replied, changing directions, and getting the bottle. He grabbed a glass for Geordi, poured, and then added some of the brandy to his now cool coffee. "I've got Alpha and Gamma shifts tomorrow. I won't be able to drink too much of this stuff. The only drink that packs a greater wallop is good, old-fashioned Alaskan home brew."

"You're right. I wouldn't want our esteemed captain to accuse me of being hung over as well as being a liar."

Will froze, truly surprised by Geordi's statement - and sarcasm. "What? He couldn't have meant it. What did Jellico do?"

Instead of answering him, Geordi looked over at Livingstone, swimming by a portal. Riker had rescued the fish with Data's help, when Jellico had ordered it removed from the ready room.

"Jellico seems to think that I'm not giving him accurate estimates when I tell him how long a job will take. I tell him two days - he tells me to get it done in one. And if I actually manage to push my people so that they get in done in thirty-six hours, he doesn't seem to understand that they can't do this each and every time he wants to impress Starfleet Command with better efficiency rates than what we had under Captain Picard. I am at my wit's end."

"Double your estimates."

"I don't work that way."

"If you want to survive under this new captain, then that is what you'll have to do. Your people can't work until they're worn out. What happens if a real emergency should occur? An exhausted crew won't do anyone any good."

"You want me to lie?"

"If that's what it takes…"

"Won't the captain notice the difference in the efficiency rates eventually?"

"Geordi, talk to Data. He's in charge of the crew now. Not me. If there is anyone who can obscure the stats, it's Data."

"I still don't feel right about this."

Will sighed, trying not to lose his temper with his friend. But he'd been facing harsh reality too often, lately. It was time that Geordi did the same.

"You've got a choice. Save your people, save yourself. Or, leave the ship now, before it's too late and you find yourself in a confrontation with the captain - one that you cannot win. Jellico holds all the cards. He wants a military ship. Not a vessel of scientific exploration. And that's the way that _his_ ship is going to be run. Data has adapted. You will too, if you intend to stay on board."

"Helluva way to live, Commander." Geordi finished off his drink and poured himself another one. When he offered the bottle to Riker, Will didn't take it.

"I know. But, in spite of our captain, _this is still the Enterprise._"

"Yeah." Geordi drained his drink, and stood, nodding toward Will. "You're going to stay, too. Aren't you?"

"As long as I can. As long as Jellico will let me do my job without obliging me into doing something stupid. I came rather close to swinging at him when I was setting up the alternate plan to rescue Captain Picard from Celtris III."

"Well, if you ever do…" On Will's questioning look, Geordi explained, "…that is, if you ever take a swing at the man, I want to be there too."

"You'd stop me?"

Geordi shook his head. "You know, he's not such a bad guy when he forgets that he's the captain…" He looked out the star portal, and nodded in it direction to the starbase beyond. "We've docked at Starbase 173." Will Riker not being required on the bridge when the ship docked told Geordi quite a lot about Jellico's opinion of his XO. "Maybe we both should put in for some leave. We need it."

"What? My crew doesn't need shore leave," Will mocked, doing a passable imitation of Jellico's voice. "The last time the _Enterprise_ had shore leave was before Picard was lost. And that was only a mere ninety-two days ago!" After Geordi finished laughing, Will added in a more normal tone of voice, "I'll get Dr. Crusher to recommend leave for all of us. She's the only officer on board that Jellico has to obey."

In sickbay, the object of Will's conversation stood silently observing in disbelief as another person had the temerity to use her private office. And her personal terminal. There was no point in calling security about this breach. Because standing beside the interloper was none other that Mister Security himself - Worf.

Beverly cleared her throat, successfully conveying her displeased presence to the two people behind her desk. They finally noticed her.

"I believe we've just been caught out, Worf," the woman seated in Beverly's chair acerbically remarked. "I was just checking out some old cases. Don't mind me." She carefully regarded Beverly before she added, "And you do have to be Dr. Crusher. Wesley always talked about you whenever we were in Ten Forward. And, of course, there was the way Captain Picard always used to describe your hair." She gave no indication to the fuming doctor as to whether Captain Picard's opinion was complimentary or not.

Beverly ignored the woman and her maddening words, suspecting that she was deliberately being baited. Instead, she bestowed an icy glare upon the visibly uncomfortable Worf. "Lieutenant?" She had a suspicion about the identity of her sickbay's intruder.

Worf took a conciliatory step closer to Beverly. "Doctor Crusher, may I introduce _my friend_. Doctor Pulaski." He nodded. "Doctor Pulaski, Doctor Crusher."

Beverly paused for a moment, surprised by the emphasis that Worf had added to the introduction. She studied the woman doctor that had occupied much of her thoughts when she had first returned to the _Enterprise_ from Starfleet Medical. Then she shook Kate's offered hand, politely saying, "How do you do, Doctor Pulaski. Why are you using my terminal?" Beverly pointedly looked down at the now blank screen, wondered what could have been so important that this woman would break with standard shipboard protocols. After all, there were other terminals available in Sickbay. Even if she were the former CMO of the _Enterprise, _that didn't give the woman the right to make herself at home. But instead of letting her righteous indignation show, Beverly heeded Worf's unusual words of introduction. Rarely did the Klingon ever identify anyone outright as _his friend_. Out of consideration for Worf, Beverly asked, "Is there anything that I can do to help?"

"Nope. All done." Kate stood and stretched, hiding her intentions behind a friendly grin. "Worf's buying me dinner. With a Klingon tea ceremony afterwards, if I twist his arm painfully enough. Care to join us? You can tell me everything about my old friends on board the ship. In exchange, I'll tell you all about Wes' latest girlfriend. She's a genius. Cute too. I get at least one letter from Wes every semester."

"My son writes you?" Beverly incredulously asked. "Almost as often as he writes me?" she added under her breath.

Instead of answering, Dr. Pulaski headed for the door. Crusher suddenly realized that if she wished to know more, she was going to have to go after the woman who was now strolling out of sickbay, arm-in-arm with Worf. When she caught up with them, she heard Dr. Pulaski interrogate Worf about Data's Strategema tournaments. Data met them for dinner too.

Four hours later, after having done the rounds of her friends, and tending to her immediate business, Dr. Kate Pulaski, got around to informing the captain of the _Enterprise_ than an officer of her rank was on board. She met a rather irritated Captain Jellico in his ready room.

"My, my, this place has changed - never liked the fish myself," Kate commented as she entered the room, greeting the seated man behind the desk. "I don't imagine that you remember me, but we've met before, Captain Jellico, at Starbase Earhart."

"It is _'captain'_ Dr. Pulaski, isn't it?" She was wearing an orange patterned dress, so he couldn't tell her rank. _And he hadn't had a chance to look it up since her presence on board was a complete surprise to him._

Jellico warily rose to greet her. The easygoing, friendly image she was presenting to him was at odds with her battle axe reputation of a doctor, not to mention contradicting many of the lengthy, almost bedeviled entries in Picard's captain's logs.

"Yes. The promotion came through a little while ago." She took a seat without even being asked, and added, "But I prefer Doctor. Or Kate. I never like to use the authority of my rank unless I absolutely have to." She stared over at him, confident that he would tolerate her presence. And Jellico began to understand some of Picard's log book commentaries. "I am Starfleet medical - not Starfleet military."

Jellico nodded and motioned toward the replicator. Kate shook her head in response to his silent question, and looked down at her dress. "In spite of my appearance, I am here on official business, Captain Jellico. I just didn't want to broadcast my purpose to the crew. You know how gossip spreads like starfire. And there's been enough of that, as it is."

Jellico didn't care to inquire about what she was specifically referring to. "What can I do for you, Doctor?" he asked in his most formal, captainly manner.

"Nope." She shook her hear and knowingly smiled. "Won't do, Captain." She looked about the ready room as if she were really interested in the décor changes, and then assessed him, considering the effects of her maddening, calculated behavior. She had delayed her reasons for being on board long enough. "Jean-Luc tried to order me about, too. Didn't work well with him either. In case you hadn't heard, I didn't get along too well with Captain Picard. He kicked me off the _Enterprise_ the very first chance he got."

"That is not what the logs indicate, Doctor."

"Captain Jellico, I may have gotten a better job offer, but that was beside the point. I know a boot transfer when it's personal."

"And no one objected? You saved Riker's life, as I recall."

"Actually, Commander Riker is the real reason as to why I am here."

Jellico considered the woman's words, wondering if she was actually going to offer him a solution to a situation that was deteriorating daily. He had seriously miscalculated Riker's position on board the ship. And he did not like admitting to such a personal error. "In what regard, Doctor?"

"Have you ever heard of Kyle Riker?"

"The civilian strategist for Starfleet?"

Kate nodded. "He's been called that."

"Last I heard, he was working on solutions for the Romulan border zone problems."

"Same man. He's also a very close, dear friend of mine, as well as Will's father, not that they ever behave like father and son. Muleheadedness runs in the Riker family."

"I see." Jellico folded his hands and tapped two fingers together in concentration, trying to understand what she was really trying to tell him. "And?"

"Father and son are estranged, to phrase it politely."

"I am not surprised," Jellico agreed.

"Anyway, Kyle is dying. He wants to reconcile with his son before he passes. But he doesn't want his son to know the real reason why. And since Starfleet Command will pretty much bend over backwards and kiss their collective asses any time Kyle Riker wants something, I am here to ask you to grant Commander Riker a leave of absence." She paused as she watched the uncontrolled look of relief pass over Jellico's visage. "It's for the purpose of accompanying Kyle on another one of his 'tactical' survey missions. I wouldn't mention to Commander Riker that his father will be coming along until after we leave the starbase. Kyle's request will be honored even if it means deceiving Will."

Jellico didn't even have to think about the request. "Leave granted. Your orders are understood. Keep him as long as you wish." He stood, indicating that she could leave.

"Sit, Captain. This is where it gets complicated."

Jellico mentally sighed, sitting down, wondering about her choice of words. _Considering what she'd already done, how much more complicated could it get?_

"I need Worf, too."

Jellico didn't mind losing Will Riker. But he did want to keep his tactical officer.

"Why?"

"Kyle needs him. He wants a good tactical officer. And Will will be less likely to refuse if Worf comes along. It'll lessen his suspicions. Besides, a Klingon warrior might help keep relations between father and son _civilized_. At the very least, he'd be a good referee and keep the blood shed to a minimum."

Jellico didn't waste any time thinking about the things that he would do in order to ensure Commander Riker's absence from his life. Even temporarily.

"Next, you'll be telling me about wanting Commander Data."

"No. You can keep Da-_tah_." She deliberately mispronounced the android's name. "I'll need both Riker and Worf for at least thirty days - possibly longer. Woody Nakamura will be contacting you with the formal acknowledgements."

"Why didn't you go through regular channels in the first place?"

"What? And miss having dinner on board the _Enterprise_?" Kate stood, doing her most charming best to mollify the man. She'd provoked him long enough. "Actually, Starfleet doesn't want to draw Romulan attention to Kyle Riker's mission. They thought that getting the two Riker's together would be a sufficient ruse. Will and Kyle's attitude toward each other is legendary. And distracting."

"I can well understand Kyle Riker's opinion of his son," Jellico remarked, standing to escort the doctor quickly from his ready room. "When do you want them?"

"Now. That should give them just enough time to pack."

=/\=

Three hours later Data and Geordi were summoned to the captain's ready room.

Geordi was surprised to see Reginald Barclay nervously standing next to the captain's desk.

Jellico nodded to his two officers and then brusquely spoke. "Commander LaForge…" He stared at Geordi for a moment before he continued. "Lt. Barclay has discussed our problem of reaching agreed upon time estimates for engineering projects. Since I consider you to be the best chief engineer in Starfleet, I will, in the future, abide by your estimations - provided that we reach some compromises now and then." Suddenly, he smiled - a tight smile that seemed to suggest that he was more amused with his own follies rather than with Geordi. He glanced over at Barclay.

"Whatever you say, sir," Geordi responded, as he wondered just what it was that Barclay had accomplished. Glancing over at Reg too, he could see that _Broccoli_ looked somewhat confused. He always expected Reg to be nervous.

"You don't have to exaggerate your estimates, Geordi. I promise that I'll listen to you and accept your word, in the future." Jellico broadened his smile. "Commander Riker has left the _Enterprise_ per Starfleet orders, for an extended leave of absence. Lt. Worf accompanied him."

"Yes, sir. I was informed of the orders," Data commented.

"Mr. Data, you are now my first officer." He swiveled in his chair and looked directly at Geordi. "Mr. LaForge, ordinarily, I would make you my second officer. However, I would prefer that you stay in Engineering."

"Uh, yes, sir," Geordi readily agreed.

Jellico looked down at the padd on his desk, started working on it, and said without looking up, "Well, then, Mr. Barclay, you are now my second officer."

For a moment there was stunned silence. The only one who didn't look like a speechless varghat was Data. Then Barclay made a choking sound before he stuttered, "Yu…yu… you do mean _me_, Captain? After what…what…what I said to you…"

"Yes, Mr. Barclay," Jellico patiently replied, still not looking up from his padd. "If there are no further questions, gentlemen, you are dismissed."

After they exited the ready room, Jellico permitted himself a chuckle.

Geordi held his breath, waiting for the turbolift to stop at engineering. He hadn't said a word. Neither had Mr. Data. And as for Mr. Barclay, he had a poleaxed expression, that still rendered him speechless.

It was Mr. Data who acted. He punched the halt override, quickly inputted some commands on the keyboard temporarily rendering the turbolift out of commission, and then pivoted, staring intently at Lt. Barclay.

"Lt. Barclay?"

Reg only mutely looked at the android

"Give."

Geordi took over. "Give, Reg. What the hell did you say to _Captain Bligh_?"

Reg managed to mumble, "Th…the truth."

"Huh?" Geordi looked at Data.

"I think that Lt. Barclay is trying to say that he told Captain Jellico the truth."

Reg took a deep breath. Then the words came tumbling out. "I figured, wh…wh…what did I have to lose? I'd do anything to help you, Geordi. Once the captain reviewed my record he was going to transfer me anyway. Bbbbbutttt.."

Geordi suddenly started laughing. "Well, what do you know. This captain wants his officers to have the courage to stand up to him and to tell him the truth." He shook his head. "I wish Riker was still on board. He'd probably give you a medal, Reg. Or at least, buy you a drink." Geordi grinned. "Which I will do, once were off duty." His grin broadened. "I know where Riker hides his good stuff." With that, Geordi nodded to Data, and Data restarted the turbolift.

Reg warily asked, "But isn't what I did, the same thing that Will Riker did? Riker always tells the _Enterprise's_ captain the truth."

"Did you call Captain Jellico any names?" Data naively inquired.

"Uh, no."

Geordi began to really understand what Reg had accomplished. "It's all in the delivery, Reg. It's all in the delivery."

"I believe that Geordi is saying that you are not the arrogant officer that Commander Riker sometimes can be," Data observed.

"Mr. Data?"

"Yes, Mr. Barclay?"

"You'll tell me what a Second Officer is supposed to do, won't you?"

"The Second Officer's duties are to do what I instruct you to do, Lieutenant."

"You'll be fine, Reg." Geordi patted Reg's shoulder. "Just fine."

=/\=

Will Riker was cranky. He didn't like suddenly finding himself ordered by Jellico to go on an unexpected leave with a surly woman and a prickly Klingon. Shifting about in his console chair, he watched his Klingon friend and the doctor who had once saved his life conferring with each other. Ignoring him. One didn't have to be a citizen of Betazed to get a sense of excited expectations from the pair of them. They were plotting something, and he was in the middle of it. He wondered if - when - they were going to finally reveal their machinations to him.

He also didn't like sitting in a shuttle with somebody else piloting. Unknown pilots made him itchy. A moment later he realized that the craft was stopping.

"Time to go, Will," Kate announced, sounding sunny - and far too cheerful.

"Are you now going to tell me where we are going?"

"Actually, I don't know. Maybe we'll find out when we get on board Admiral Nakamura's personal yacht, the _Robert Heinlein_."

Before Will could tell Kate what he really thought about her, Worf stood in front of him and jerked his head in the direction of the transporter pad, happy to help his friend in continuing to annoy Will Riker. "Commander?"

A few moments later, Will's worst possible suspicions were confirmed. Will stared about the yacht, intently inspecting the luxurious interior. Then he cast a withering glare upon his father. He also included in the glare, his father's cohorts.

"Worf, what the hell is going on here? Kate, what the devil have you done?" He ignored his father completely.

Kyle passed over his son's rude behavior, choosing instead to answer the question not directed at him. "We are going on a snipe hunt," he explained with the casual, infuriating arrogance that sometimes bespoke both Riker men.

Will Riker was about to succinctly say in great detail what his father could do with his proposed hunting trip, when he noticed something unusual: Worf was grinning broadly, behind his father's back, looking very, very well pleased with himself. Riker then regarded Kate's amused look. He finally, really paid attention to his father. Kyle Riker had a rather peculiar expression on his face, too, as if he were enjoying himself at his son's expense. Riker didn't care for his father's disposition. "What's going on?" Riker exploded, annoyed with their game playing.

"You see, Will," Kyle explained to his son, as his smile became even more insufferable. He threw his arm about Will's shoulder, hugging him in spite of Will's obvious lack of enthusiasm for such a display of fatherly affection. "Will, over the next thirty-five days, the _snipe _we will be hunting is a most rare, elusive Cardassian bird: _Captain Jean-Luc Picard."_

=/\=

Jean-Luc Picard rolled over on his side, rubbing a cramp in his thigh, trying not to disturb the girl sleeping near him. She did not move. As he stared at the dark ceiling to his quarters, he contemplated his new life. Considering all of the horrors that life in a Cardassian household could hold, he was not going to complain about his current comfortable position.

Gul Madred had promised him a life _**'**__of comfort and scholarly reflection'_ when he was being tortured. His place here on New Hebetia seemed to be the fulfillment of that promise.

He had to admit that once Melinkah decided he had recovered enough, she had found many diverse ways to keep him occupied and even interested in his new life. And if he would have actually been here by his own choice, he would indeed have been intrigued by the society on this planet, a most surprising amalgamation of Cardassian and old Terran cultures.

Picard speculated that the humans on this planet were descendants of a post-Eugenics War refugee ship that somehow had gotten lost and crash landed here. Based on what he'd discovered about them, he suspected that the original humans were a group of Muslims who had somehow successfully blended their society in with the Cardassians.

And as for the Cardassians, Picard discovered that Melinkah was an out-of-favor member of the Obsidian Order, which, according to Melinkah, should only consist of members of the noble families. She was also the official governor of this place, New Hebetia XII, with its domed-against-the-sand towns, and shielded-against-the-storms terra-farmed valleys. She was the head of all of the communities on this planet, both Cardassian and Terran, arbitrator of their rules and practices. For some unknown reason, Melinkah was insistent that Picard learn the ways of both.

Melinkah also commanded that Picard learn the important Cardassian languages, including the high dialects of the nobility as well as the common language of the military. And though most of the humans that he encountered in Melinkah's compound understood Federation Standard, he quickly discovered that the language of the people who worked the farms and mines was a time altered variation of Arabic and French. He understood only a few of their words at first. But he would learn.

One thing that was a surprise was the amount of personal freedom that he was permitted. No one guarded him. He walked around Melinkah's compound, and then daily explored the surrounding towns and farmlands. Sometimes Sajah accompanied him. But when he wished to be alone in his explorations, it was permitted. Picard chose not to notice her disappointment when he walked about without her.

With the gradual return of his health, he was given other duties. The unspoken threat of the pain device in his chest was sufficient incentive to ensure his cooperation.

Melinkah informed him during one of their many meals together (Where she chose to instruct him in the finer points of Cardassian etiquette) what his first job would be.

He entertained the possibility that the Cardassians had a god of fate with a truly wicked sense of humor, or that Melinkah knew far too much about his background. Jean-Luc Picard was to become the newest teacher of this compound's children.

"All children? Cardassian and human?" he politely inquired as he deftly peeled what was this planet's version of a grapefruit.

Melinkah watched his nimble fingers dissect the fruit, then using a fruit knife to slice the sections. She handed him a viniagrette containing a syrupy almond flavored liqueur that was to be drizzled over the tart fruit. She had observed that he used the sweet liqueur sparingly. But that he did like this combination for dessert. She was beginning to learn a great deal about her new human companion.

"Yes. There is no class distinction in the school."

Picard harrumphed. "Everything about this place has class distinction, Melinkah."

"Why should you complain? As part of my household, you are in a class above all the humans. And most of my Cardassian servants."

"Not of my choosing."

"True. But would you really prefer to be a slave, mucking out stables or rising before dawn to work in the fields? Forced to follow everyone else's orders?"

"I've actually done that in my life time, Melinkah. I've mucked out stalls and picked grapes. And I've been following orders all my life."

"But it was of your choosing, Lu-cah. Here, you would have no choice but to obey."

"Isn't that my current situation, Madam?"

She raised an eyebrow, as she poured out two cups of black fragrant tea.

Picard accepted the cup from her. It wasn't Earl Grey, but it was acceptable. He watched as she poured kanar into her cup. The fishy liquor still did not appeal to Picard's tastes.

"Picard, there isn't much damage that you can do on your own here. At this compound, we rarely get ships landing. So, letting you do as you wish, is not a concern of mine - as long as you still do what I request."

"And if I do not?"

"Don't make me force you, Lu-cah. There are ways worse than physical torture. But, if it is necessary, I and my guards all do have the pain controls." She watched him involuntarily touch the scar in his chest. "If the pain setting is left on long enough, it will kill you."

"I see."

"I'm sure you do."

He stood as if to leave.

"Jean-Luc. You are not a foolish man. We may never become 'best friends', but I think a relationship based on respect is forming between us. Please do not disappoint me." She suddenly grinned. "All this fuss over having to teach a few children." She stood and walked over to him. "I know that you would prefer to work in the fields. You're a vintner's son, and you knowledge of wine would be useful. But, physically, you're not ready for such work." She benignly patted his shoulder. "Besides, you might even begin to _like_ children once you are exposed to them on a daily basis."

Picard pretended to shudder. "I think that Starfleet has seriously underestimated the expanse of the Cardassian spy networks in the Federation."

Melinkah smiled. "It's _my_ network, Lu-cah. The Cardassian military has nothing that comes close to the depth of the Obsidian Order."

"You can trust that if I ever get the chance to so inform Starfleeet Command, I will correct their error in information."

The next morning, Jean-Luc Picard began his career as a teacher of school children. He'd taught cadets, on occasion, at the Starfleet Academy, and had been a college professor once, decades ago. But living, breathing, active six-year-olds for an entire hour, was a whole new experience for this captain.

As the weeks went by, Picard discovered that he liked teaching children of both human and Cardassian heritage. And that as time passed, he actually enjoyed being a teacher. At first, the thought that he might be training future enemies of the Federation did concern him, but he could honestly see no immediate harm in the teaching of mathematics, the sciences, some of Earth's history, and the cultures of other major races. And if he could ignite in the minds of these children, a recognition of some of his beliefs and ethics, then there was a chance that these youngsters could be the future - a road to peace.

He came to learn that there were two ways of achieving the upper ranks of society in the Cardassian Union. One way was to be born into it like Melinkah and some of the older members of the Obsidian Order. Or, one could earn a higher position as Gul Madred had done by pulling himself upward through the military ranks. Picard quickly learned that both the Obsidian Order and the Military at best ignored, or at worst despised members of the Cardassian civilian government, the Detapa Council. Neither side respected the idea of 'civilian' anything. And as it went on Cardassia Prime, so it went on New Hebetia XII. Except in microcosm.

He learned that there were unions between the Cardassians and the Humans, mainly for the purpose of political or financial advancement and alignment. And that both societies permitted multiple spouses. He often thought of Will Riker when he caught the sloe-eyed glances of speculation that some of the women of the compound sent in his direction. Riker would have appreciated his situation far better than he did. He knew that if Will had been here, his former first officer would have been far more inclined to accept their subtle invitations than he was. Will would have readily taken to a society that permitted multiple partners. But, as the captain had done on board the _Enterprise_, he ignored, or did not even notice, all of the flirtations, both masculine and feminine that were offered.

And then there was Sajah to consider. From the beginning, for whatever reason, Melinkah had dictated that Sajah was his _de facto_ woman. Though Picard slept with her, he had not bedded her. He did not choose to do so for several reasons, the least of which was the thought that she would submit to him out of duty rather than true desire. Yet, still unsure of her position, he also did consider the possibility of Sajah's punishment if he sent her away from him. So, he did nothing to change their relationship, though he now understood enough of the local whisperings to know that most in Melinkah's household did not understand his lack of sexual interest in Sajah. Or, in anyone else.

Not that he suspected Sajah of discussing his actions or their lack, with anyone. She did not gossip. She had a quick mind, a gentle manner, and a peacefulness about her that pleased him. She was considerate, caring and a damned fine cook. So he taught her chess, French, and Argo gin rummy. She taught him a Cardassian dice game and how to make rishti flatbread over a stone fire. She also instructed him in the ways of life on New Hebetia, so that he could better understand all of the societal and political permutations. Yet, if she had been on board the _Enterprise_ he would have scarcely noticed her. But life as an inmate of the Cardassian Union did change one's perspective.

In the early hours of the dawn, he watched the continual shifting of the ceiling shadows that reminded him that dawn was approaching. Again, he raised himself up on an elbow to glance over at Sajah. She was a lovely young woman…_no, __girl._ He found that he had to remind himself to think of her only as a girl rather than as an available young woman. _For if he thought of her as a woman…_

He refused to surrender to Melinkah the nature of his relationship with Sajah, his final link to his former existence. The contraceptive drugs in his blood that he used to have Dr. Selar administer would have dissipated by now. And he would never, ever, willingly chance siring a child that would be held under Cardassian rule, to become the property of his Cardassian masters. So he pretended that he did not notice that Sajah was attractive. _And had a fine bosom… _Picard also derived some slight sense of satisfaction from the knowledge that his refusal to mate with Sajah annoyed Melinkah, though she never openly spoke of her displeasure.

"You will ride with Talib this morning?"

He was startled by her words, for he'd been preoccupied with his dark thoughts and had not noticed that she had awakened. He smiled at the thought of Talib, the master of Melinkah's stables, and her horses. For the horses, including the purebred descendants of the Godolphin Arabians as well as the animals raised for common work, were what made his life here on this miserable planet almost tolerable. When he was with the horses, and in the company of their stable hands, he was not reminded of what he had once been.

Picard even liked the torros, the brown, huge horse like creatures that ventured beyond the domes into the wasteland sands. They were not swift, but they could survive in the harsh conditions of the outerworld. And Picard could appreciate their usefulness, too.

Sajah rolled over on to her side and studied him. She sighed, not even realizing that she'd made a noise, as she mentally wondered one more time, what it was about her that he did not find pleasing.

He knew her well enough by now to know what the sigh meant, but he could not speak aloud his reasons to her. And when he'd observed her nervous glances in the direction of the curtained alcoves, and though she never spoke of it, by her very actions she had convinced him that Melinkah or some of the other Cardassians still were monitoring his movements.

"Yes, I will ride this morning before class." He paused for a moment before he formally asked, "Will you join me?"

She was startled by his question. Usually he preferred to commune with his horses alone, especially with Kadisha, the mare that Melinkah had given to him, once he was well enough to ride. A growing smile crossed her lips as she nodded her assent.

"Perhaps, if it is quiet enough, we can go beyond the barriers."

Her words startled him. "Going beyond the shields - it is permitted?" He continued their conversation even as he quickly dressed. He had no modesty around her. Then he tossed a moss green aba over to her. She put the outer dress on.

"If one is foolish, it is allowed."

"Why, when I arrived here, did my shuttlecraft land so far into the wasteland? I've seen other ships land behind the shields in the fields. Or if outside, at least near the shields."

"They land there only when they are Melinkah's ships, Jean-Lucah. The ship that brought you was owned by Gul Madred. Melinkah does not care for this man."

"Neither do I," Picard mildly agreed.

"Melinkah always has her weapons aimed at any ship sent by her son-in-law. Or any other ship sent by the military." There was a glimpse of a dimple as Sajah momentarily grinned. "She is a very cautious lady. That is why she has achieved such a great age."

Picard hid his reaction to the information that Gul Madred was Melinkah's son-in-law. His mind raced with the possibilities of what such a relationship meant to his own position. And Picard began to wonder if he understood the real nature of the game that was being played with his life.

They went riding over sun burnt dunes of sliding sands and stove flat rocks. For a moment, Picard could look upon the far horizon and watch the dawn's few stars fade. And he almost felt a sense of freedom.

=/\=

Dr. Beverly Crusher absentmindedly tangled strands of knotting red gold hair in her fingers, as she concentrated on solving the puzzle as to why Dr. Catherine Pulaski had resorted to subterfuge in order to obtain the last health reports of Captain Jean-Luc Picard from her private records. She finally knew the reasons as to why Dr. Pulaski had been using her private office. Now, all she had to figure out was why Worf had been helping the woman. And what Kate Pulaski really intended to do with the purloined information. What was she plotting?

When she had arrived as a few logical conclusions, considered the nature of Mr. Worf, and took a leap of faith, she cleared reports off of her untidy desk, restoring it to its normal condition. And then she tapped her comm badge.

"Mr. Data?"

"Yes, Dr. Crusher?"

"Before you go on your duty watch, could you please stop by my office? I'm working on something and I need your advice."

Sixty-four minutes later, Data presented himself to Beverly Crusher.

"Dr. Crusher, how many I assist you?"

Beverly looked over from a med panel, pleasantly smiled, and then ordered, "Computer, cease recording." She nodded at Data. "You too, Mr. Data. I don't think that you should make any internal record of our conversation here, either."

"Am I to understand that you wish for our conversation to be '_off the record_', Dr. Crusher?"

"Yes, Data. Please."

"As you wish." Data paused for a moment, then moved into what he considered to be the correct stance of a Starfleet officer patiently awaiting further discussion with another officer. He placed his hands against his thighs and nodded, smiling politely at his friend. He waited.

Beverly took a deep breath, decided that the worst thing that Data could do was to consider her to be silly, and then proceeded. "Data, if there is anything that I can do to assist you - and Will and Worf - in your search for Captain Picard, you have only but to ask for my help." She leaned against her chair back, waiting to see how Data would respond.

He didn't.

Sapphire eyes lit with a most determined glint as her stubborn streak emerged. She tried again. "I am first and foremost a physician. If there is anything that must be done to help all of you in your search for Jean-Luc - anything that I can do… well, Starfleet…" She took a quick breath, mentally noted to herself, "… and Jellico…." Then speaking in an even firmer tone of voice, she continued, "… well, Starfleet be damned!"

Data was uncertain as to how to respond. "Doctor, I do not understand your statement."

"Data!" Anger lent a frustrated edge to her voice. "Data, give!"

"Doctor?" He shifted into his '_naïve innocent'_ mode of expressions. "What is it that you wish me to give?"

Beverly was not fooled. "Data!" She stood, leaning over to glare at him. "I knew once Will and Worf left that it had to be either you or Geordi or both - mixed up in Kate's scheme - whatever the damned business is. Your involvement makes the most sense."

Data followed her logic. "Doctor, I do not believe that it would be wise for either of us to speculate about the exact nature of Dr. Pulaski's assignment for Lieutenant Worf and Commander Riker."

"Starfleet considers Jean-Luc Picard to be lost during the performance of his duty." She tried to control the sob that threatened to break forth. "I know that Starfleet Command is scheduling a _memorial_ service…" She straightened up. "But I know that none of his friends accept this decision. And I knew that someone would do something about it, Data. We are in my private office, speaking in confidence. You can tell me what is going on."

"Dr. Crusher, what you do not know cannot hurt you or your career." Data made note of her red cheeks, tightening lips, and accusatory, frustrated grimace, and considered that perhaps he should offer her something. "However, Dr. Crusher, if the need should arise, I would ask your help for a _personal project_."

"Understood." She smiled in relief. "And Geordi?"

"Dr. Pulaski did not wish to awaken Captain Jellico's curiosity about Commander Riker's mission by involving more officers who could be considered to be friends of Captain Picard. If it is required, I will discuss my 'personal project' with Geordi at the proper time." He paused for a moment as he considered what else Beverly Crusher should know. "Starfleet will not sanction a rescue mission without evidence that Captain Picard is still alive. I am also not sure, that even if such proof is provided, that such a rescue mission would be authorized."

Beverly considered Data's words. "Starfleet must not become suspicious, though I wish that I could have gotten to know Dr. Pulaski better."

"It seemed wise to limit the total number of the friends of Captain Picard who were going away on an unspecified mission, especially in absence of positive proof that Captain Picard was ever even captured by the Cardassian Union."

"No positive proof?" Incredulous anger threatened to erupt. "I saw the tape!"

"Cardassia denies the authenticity of the tape. Though their claims of renegade ex-military warriors and unsanctioned actions are unsubstantiated."

"And Starfleet believes this nonsense?"

"Without proof, Starfleet must accept the Cardassian government's '_nonsense_'."

"_And Jean-Luc Picard's life be damned."_

"Not as long as he has friends to prevent it."

Beverly nodded, accepting Data's words as the promise to Jean-Luc that it was.

Data paused for a moment, analyzing her attitude and words. "Dr. Crusher, I have noticed that you are using the word 'damned' more frequently in your conversations. There have been eleven incidences of its usage in my presence since Captain Picard left. Is this an example of frustration? Or anger?"

"Both, Data. Both." She paused, then flashed him a rueful grin, "Dammit."

=/\=

Jean-Luc entered Melinkah's private dining room, expecting to see the lady already pouring their before-dinner wine. It had become her custom to test the local wines on him, to see if he would offer an oenophile's suggestion to improve her provincial efforts. Picard was no longer surprised that she knew of his vintner's background. Madred had tormented him with the knowledge. Now that he knew of their familial ties, he doubted that there was little that she did not know about him. And with this information Picard continued to suspect that he was a pawn in a game whose rules he had yet to learn and whose name he had yet to be told.

There was no one in the starkly simplistic dining room with its dramatic angles and shadows. Wondering what was keeping the lady from her dinner, for he had discovered that she was a creature of well-defined punctual habits, he perused the black marble top sideboard, and chose a bottle of wine to uncork. This Cardassian lady did not quite understand the importance of permitting certain types of wines to breathe; not that the New Hebetia vintages were of such a quality that they truly demanded such consideration. In spite of the fact that they'd been producing wine on this planet for several centuries, the New Hebetians were still at a rudimentary level of expertise.

"Ah, Hu-Man, there you are."

The voice was cold, absolutely threatening, very, very polite, and terrifyingly familiar.

Picard turned, dropping the bottle that he'd been decanting.

"I believe that I shall still call you _Hu-Man_."

He insolently stared at Picard, noticing everything about the man from the healthy look to Picard's skin, to the fine woven shirt and slacks that he wore, trimmed with silver glyph bands on the sleeves. He was not pleased.

"I do not believe that I care for the _'pet' _nickname that my inestimable mother-in-law has bestowed upon you." Madred stood there in the room's doorway, his arrogant demeanor belying the fact that he was relishing the fact that this far-too-prideful former starship captain was upset by his presence. "_Lu-Cah_, isn't it? How pretentious."

Picard said nothing, for he was waging an internal battle, fighting to control emotions that had been partially lulled into complacency by the normalcy of his life on this planet. Reality returned in a bitter blast. Forcing himself to squarely look at Gul Madred, he could not control his instinctive searching glances to see if Madred held a pain device control.

Gul Madred pointedly looked down at the broken wine bottle. "Perhaps I should send for someone to clean up your accident? Or you should clean it up, Hu-Man. Perhaps that would be best. When you are finished, you may serve me some of the Kahketi wine." On Picard's blank expression, he added, "The amber wine, Hu-Man. That is, if my presence is not too distressing to you."

"But it is distressing to me, Gul Madred," Melinkah acerbically barked from behind him.

Madred spun about, then stepped aside to let her into the room. "Ah, my dear Melinkah. You have not continued training my gift to you. This slave is clumsy." Malicious intent colored his words. "Shall I discipline him for you? Or, has that become a favored pastime?"

Picard tried, but he could not control an involuntary expression of fear upon hearing Madred speak of punishment.

Melinkah looked at Picard for a moment, noting his tense posture and white-knuckled hands. Then she stared at her son-in-law. "I do not recall inviting you for dinner, Madred. But since you have intruded upon my privacy, we will dine." She looked at Picard. "Alone." Then she nodded. "Leave us, Picard." She spoke as if Picard truly had been her personal manservant.

Anxious to be away from the Cardassian who still tormented his dreams, Picard quickly left. And then he was angry with himself for permitting Madred to intimidate him. He was still upset when he returned to his quarters, surprising Sajah, for she had not been expecting him for several hours.

She put down her book, sensing something new about him. "What is it?"

"Why didn't you tell me that Gul Madred was here?"

She stood, eyed his red wine spattered pants, and went to a chest, pulling out a similar pair and handed them to him. Then, she answered him. "I did not know that he was here." She looked away for a moment. "I usually go to the high country valleys when he comes."

He accepted her lack of knowledge as the truth, for he had come to trust Sajah, with some reservations. "How often do you go to the high country?"

"Not often. He rarely comes."

When he was dressing, she walked over to him, and then sat down on the platform's edge. "Melinkah does not invite him; usually, she only asks her daughter Melin Orra, or her granddaughter, Jil Orra, to come and visit."

He walked away from her and poured himself some cold water from a ewer, drained the glass, and then asked Sajah, "I know that it is not your inclination to gossip, but, please try to find out all that you can about Madred's visit."

"The house servants will wonder."

"I understand that, Sajah. But Madred's presence troubles me. Not that I am in any position to prevent him from any action, but if he has come here to imprison me again… I must know."

She understood his desperation.

He did not explain what he would do if Madred wanted him back. But Sajah had nursed him from the very first moment that Picard had been brought into the compound. She had seen all of the horrific damage that had been inflicted upon his body - and his soul. So she silently accepted his reasons for not ever wanting to be controlled by Gul Madred ever again. And she would do whatever he wanted. For Sajah had her own good reasons to fear Madred. She had once live in Madred's family compound on Cardassia Prime."

"I will go now, and try to find out what you wish to know, Jean-Lu-cah."

Hours later, Sajah returned, but the information she had uncovered did little to alleviate Picard's fears. Gul Madred had arrived alone, in his personal shuttlecraft.

Sajah urged Picard to get some sleep, persuading him to dress in the simple long shirt-like garment that was his night clothing. She dressed in her simple night gown shift, knowing that he never looked at her body when she changed clothes. And, as had become their custom, she joined him on her half of the platform bed. But sleep did not come easily.

He reached over and touched her fingers, as if needing to feel some sort of human contact. "Why do you go to the high valleys when Madred comes?"

"Yes, why don't you tell the noble captain why you flee me, Sajah?"

Both froze for a second. And then Picard jumped up, facing Madred. And then he was shocked. Surprised and dismayed. For Madred was not alone. Melinkah had come as well, her face an implacable autocratic masque in the light from the torchieres.

Someone had turned up the lighting.

"What do you want?" He stared at Melinkah, expecting her to answer, for he had come to expect a degree of civilized, amicable behavior from this woman.

Madred raised up his left hand, pointing the pain control device at Picard's chest.

It was Melinkah who spoke. "Gul Madred feels that you are not properly appreciative of all that he has done for you, Picard."

It was Sajah who understood the unspoken threat. "Melinkah! He does not understand!"

"Understand what, Sajah? Tell me," Picard ordered, not looking at her, still staring at Melinkah, as if by the very force of his displeasure he could compel Melinkah to be truthful. "What should I '_appreciate_'?"

But Gul Madred would not let anyone else spoil his fun with Jean-Luc Picard.

"You should be disciplined with all of the settings on my little toy, Hu-Man. Some are for instruction. Some are for pain. And some…"

Seeing Madred's gloating, Picard turned his head and studied Sajah. Her expression of sadness and regret revealed too much.

Melinkah stepped closer to Sajah. "Girl, you do not have to do this." She glanced toward a far corridor revealed by wind-blown drapes. "There are other candidates rather willing to take your place." She looked again upon Picard, understanding the power of his magnetism upon others. "You do have a way of attracting desire, Lu-Cah." She returned her stare to Sajah, willing the girl to reconsider her decision.

For a moment, the silent pleading in Sajah's gaze almost stopped her from yielding to Madred. But Melinkah knew that if she did not do it, Gul Madred would. And he would not use the care or restraint that she would tender Picard.

"I will stay," Sajah whispered, signifying fully to Melinkah her understanding of the matter.

Melinkah nodded, regretting that circumstances forced her to accept this decision. For a second she cupped Sajah's pale cheek. Then she turned to Madred and simply stared at him, extending out her hand for the pain control device.

Madred did not give it to her. Instead, he argued, "I was neglectful in my instruction of this Hu-Man on Celtris III. I will now correct my error and continue his instruction."

Picard paled, though he did not move a muscle.

Expecting Melinkah to disagree, Picard was jolted when she said, "Remember, Madred, this human is _under my protection and that of the Obsidian Order._ What you do now is only a lesson - not a punishment. When you are finished with Captain Picard, if I have to summon a physician, no one will be able to save you from my wrath. Or be able to find your body. Understood?"

For an instant, Picard thought he saw fear in Madred's eyes.

"I wish this Hu-Man no harm, Melinkah."

Picard did not believe Madred's words. But evidently, Melinkah did for she swiftly left the room without looking back at Picard.

Picard was so absorbed by the confrontation between Melinkah and Madred that he didn't pay any attention to Sajah until she stood before him, dropping her robes.

He stared at her nudity, noting the long honey-brown hair that barely covered her bosom, the slender arms, and the curve of her hips. The slightly spicy scent that she always wore seemed to intensify. His body started to react to her temptation.

"I am sorry," she whispered, before she hesitantly reached up and softly touched his left cheek with her fingers. "We must do this." And then she pressed her trembling cool lips against his.

"No!" He took a step backwards, as if rejecting what she was offering, and then bent to pick up her robes.

A swift shock of pain crossed his chest. He took a step closer to Madred. "Madred, this is between us! Leave the girl out of this!"

"_This girl is it_, Hu-Man!"

"What?"

As if in answer to Picard's question, Madred pressed another button on the pain device. Picard braced himself, expecting to be flooded with excruciating pain. Instead, his body felt the onslaught of something far more insidious and demanding than mere physical pain - uncontrollable, intense, and greatly amplified concupiscence. As his mind began to comprehend this new twist to Cardassian torture, his body was being compelled to respond. Picard found himself losing his self-control, descending into a whirlpool of blood fever, found in a Cardassian hell. His last rational thoughts were of his hatred for Madred, for not even the Borg had been this cruel, this base. Picard's very intellect was consumed by the needs of his flesh. The urgency of Pon Farr paled in comparison to what Madred was igniting in Picard's sexual drive.

He reacted instinctively, grabbing the woman, pulling her down to the floor. He didn't notice her silent tears, silken skin, trembling curves or her willingness. These were details that his mind would register and recall only after this blood madness waned. All he knew now was that he must fuck.

=/\=

Worf grumbled under his breath as placidly as his Klingon nature would permit. Four days ago Commander Riker had ordered him not to complain out loud any more. So rumbling now, under his breath, was all that was permitted. Worf mentally categorized his opinions of Ferengi, Atreans, Yridians and Boolians; all beings with whom they'd had recent negotiations. He was also flying their borrowed Admiral's yacht further into the Cardassian Neutral Zone.

He had learned why Commander Riker's father was on this mission. Kyle Riker had the contacts to furtively obtain information about Picard's whereabouts. Not that they had discovered much. The only likely rumors were purchased from a disgruntled glin about where the Cardassians might send a non-existent prisoner who was to permanently disappear. So Captain Picard's would-be rescuers were patiently searching every possible planet bearing the name 'Hebetia' that could be a location for their friend. The only problem was, there were over thirty Cardassian colony planets with the designation of 'New Hebetia' known to the Federation. Worf wondered how many additional planets their venture would discover with the Cardassian name 'New Hebetia'.

And to further constrain Worf's sense of dignity, they were working under the guise of traders associated with a Ferengi named Som who was a cousin to the House of Quark.

Having searched for twenty days, they still were no closer to finding the captain than they had been when they'd started this grand and glorious mission. And they were running out of time with still too many places to look. Will Riker had chosen New Hebetia XII as the next planet to visit simply because there were horses there that the Ferengi wanted for racing and trading purposes. The politics of this section of the zone were changing dramatically, now that the Ferengi had discovered the profits to be made off of horse racing.

"Commander," Worf gruffly announced.

Will Riker went to the pilot's seat and leaned over Worf's shoulder to peer at the control panels. "What is it, Worf?"

"Melinkah, the governor of this planet, grants us permission to land at the gates outside of her main city compound and its shields. We may not bring weapons inside of the shielded areas."

Will checked a few more panels. "Considering that this is a Cardassian controlled world, their security seems pretty lax."

Worf studied his panels. "Their weaponry is not, Commander. Sensors detect several batteries of phasers in the unshielded areas. There could be considerable weaponry disguised by the shields as well. Shall I scan the area with heightened sensors?"

"No. Considering how little weaponry we have on board this ship, Worf, we'd better try guile rather than brute force, to search this place."

"No need for force, sir - yet. We have been invited. We may enter at sundown."

=/\=

In the aftermath of passion's force, Sajah knew that her Lucah would be weak and in need of sustenance. She slowly rolled away from him on the platform as he slept, sliding away from the sheets that threatened to entangle her to him. She was sore. Bruised. And full of regret over how their mating had happened. But she didn't regret the loving. Once the power of the control device had started to fade, her Lucah had become a masterful lover, giving as well as receiving. Echoes of the depth of her pleasure still shuddered throughout her body. The pain of her body was a small price to pay for it.

She also considered Lucah to be most fortunate, for at certain settings, the energy of the fornication command could exhaust the very life out of the recipient. Madred had dared not go that far. But she knew Madred well enough to know that he had been tempted.

She draped cool, wet cloths against Lucah's forehead, hiding her worries for him behind her usual calm manner. Eventually, he opened his eyes to blindly stare up at her hovering form. And then he tried to sit up. He was somewhat surprised to discover that he was actually on the bed. He had vague recollections of carrying Sajah to the bed some time during the night. But his most prominent memory was of fucking Sajah against the cool of the stone floor. And a column. And the first step to the platform… He realized that he'd lost count of how many times he'd taken Sajah…

He suddenly grabbed her hand, stilling her movement.

"How?"

She shook her head, giving him an understanding smile. "Rest."

He recognized that tone of voice. He'd heard it too many times before not to automatically respond to it. And then he remembered what he had done. He looked her over, somewhat surprised that she hadn't put on any robes. He saw the bruises to her shoulders, the bite marks on her neck, the redness of her breasts. And he knew that he'd done it all to her.

"No!" It was an agonized declaration. He tried to get up, to move away from her. Then he discovered how weak he was; the enervated condition of his body. She pushed him back against the sheets. So he looked at her. He could not understand how she could be looking at him with such concern, considering what he had just done to her. He wondered how this could be after all that had happened.

"I am all right, Jean-Lucah," she softly mentioned as if what they were almost discussing was an occurrence to which she was quite accustomed.

"I hurt you. I remember dragging…"

She silenced his guilt-laced mutterings with her finger, pressed up against his lips. "I knew what I was doing."

"I did not. I've never made love to a woman like that before…"

"You did not have any choice in the matter. I did."

"For what purpose?" And then he thought of something lurid. "Procreation? I did not wish that. Not yet."

Between his guilt and burgeoning anger, he did not quite know how to respond to her. All at once he grew weary, enormously, overwhelmingly tired. It was both a physical and mental exhaustion reaching beyond the depths of his worst days with the Borg. He was tired of everyone using him to suit their own purposes. He tried to remember what it was like to be in command of his own life, and he knew that he could not. He shut his eyes and tried not to think at all.

Hours later he opened them again. He was not surprised to see Sajah in an alcove, watching him as she prepared a meal. This time, when he tried to get up, his body responded almost normally.

"Why?"

She knew what he was asking, but she gave him a different answer. "I used a dermal regenerator on us. Unfortunately whenever Madred comes, medical care is usually required. He is an evil man."

"Why?" This time, she didn't answer him.

He watched her as she gracefully stood, picking up the tray with food on it. She was moving carefully, as if she still had some sore muscles. When she came to him, she placed the tray on the bed beside him.

"This is almost as it was in the beginning."

"Yes."

"At least then, you answered my questions, Sajah."

"Only some." She slightly smiled. Some of the fear that he held in his heart disappeared. "It is difficult for me to talk of this."

He ignored his food as he reached over and clasped her right hand, bringing it to his lips. For a moment he kissed her fingers, trying to convey an apology that she would not accept verbally.

"Why, Sajah? Please, I need to know. What did Madred seek to gain by doing this to you. To me?"

She looked at her hand held in his, her sun-kissed tinted flesh twining with the tan of his fingers. She sat beside him; her voice was so soft and hesitant, at first, that he had to lean closer to her in order to hear her.

"I loved once, and was married once, to a man serving in the house of Madred. Kelim was a good man - a man of business for Madred. Our time together was blessed. We had a son." She looked away from Picard's intense gaze, as if seeing his face would bewilder her. "There was a plague - a fever. When my husband and my son were sick, I went to Melinkah begging her to get help from anyone, for Madred would do nothing. He only laughed at the thought of humans being sick. Too many were dying. Melinkah wanted to contact the Federation for help. But it was the Military - they refused."

"What happened then?" He reached up with his left hand to wipe the tears from her cheek.

For a moment she drew comfort from his touch. Then she continued. "Melinkah used all of the Obsidian Order contacts that she had. She found help, eventually." And then she stopped speaking, as if she could speak no more.

"Your son and husband - they died?" His voice was gentle in the asking.

She nodded her answer, but could not look up at him. To see his compassion would be her undoing. She still concentrated her gaze upon the touch of his hands. "Thousands died. Here and in other colonies."

"I am sorry, Sajah. I did not know."

She accepted his sympathy. For a moment there was an understanding silence between them. "Many of the men died. But the Federation medicines that the Ferengi got - they saved most of the women and children." For an instant, a fleeting smile crossed over her lips. "That is why there were so many volunteers when Madred announced that he would instruct you in the device's pleasuring lessons."

"And here, I thought it was my _savoir vivre _and_ Gallic _charm that had attracted the women." And for a moment, he permitted himself to smile too. And then he thought some more. "Are you telling me that most of the humans on this planet know about these devices - and want them?"

She nodded_. "_Cardassians want them too. You have to be a member of the high council or marry well, in order to get one implanted in your chest_. Some will do anything for the pleasures it can bring." _

"And you? Do you seek such pleasures? Do you have such a device, Sajah?"

"No. I did not want anyone to have such power over me."

"I understand. It is not something I want as well."

"But Madred gives you no choice."

With this observation, she handed him some soup.

"Can the device be removed?"

"Most would not want it removed, Jean-Lucah."

"But it can be done?"

"If Melinkah permits it."

She knew what he was going to do even before he tried to stand. She stopped him from moving. "Bathe first, Jean-Lucah. And then put on some robes." And then, unexpectedly, Sajah grinned. "If you go to Melinkah naked, she might consider it an invitation and turn on the device again. I do not think that you are strong enough at the moment, to deal with Melinkah as a lover."

He was startled by her words, for he had thought the inter-species marriages on this planet were mere formalities for political reasons or for profit. "Humans and Cardassians? They can mate?"

"Sometimes. With enough incentive." She eyed his naked body.

"I don't wish to give Melinkah any incentive." He complied with her suggestion. Together that sat in the bathing pool. She wisely did not offer to scrub his back. And then they both went to the waterfall pool with its pulsing jets of water. Both needed this hydrotherapy.

"What happened to Madred?"

"Melinkah ordered him back to his ship and to leave, once the pleasuring cycle started. She would not permit him to watch us."

He froze. "Then you could have left me once Madred had gone."

She did not verbally answer him. Only her answering, knowing smile convinced him now, that she was indeed a _woman._

Thirty minutes later, a properly robed and rejuvenated Jean-Luc Picard went in search of Melinkah. He found her in her study, a large silver and white stone room that she often used when instructing Picard in the finer points of Cardassian protocols.

She stood when he entered. "Are you angry?" But she saw that he was not.

"No. But I must admit that I am curious, Madam."

"Curiosity can be dangerous."

He ignored her warning. "Why was I lured into Cardassian space, tortured, and then brought here? There was no compelling military reason for Madred's deception and my capture and torture."

"Madred thought there was."

"Did _you_ actually arrange it? Convince Madred to trap me into this fate?"

"You assume too much about my relationship with Madred."

"Madam, there was a purpose to my abduction beyond minor military posturing. I refuse to believe that I was lured to Celtris III merely for the gratification of a sadist. And then I was sent here. Why?"

"You are here because Gul Madred had nowhere else to send you where you would be permitted to live. He could have ordered your death. He did not."

"But why?"

Instead of responding to his words, she walked over to a table and poured some liquor into two small glasses. He accepted the glass and then looked down at it in surprise when he tasted Aldebaran brandy instead of kanar.

"You must still trade with the Ferengi." He said these words as if it was another clue to the puzzle of his presence in Cardassian space.

"I learned long ago the powers of bargaining and profit. While the military rulers were seeking to conquer worlds for Cardassia, my kind was supplying food that the starving worlds of the Empire needed to survive." She sat down, then indicated for Picard to join her on the long, carved black stone bench that flanked her work area.

He considered what she had revealed. "_Empire? _Not _Union?"_

"Cardassians had enough food to eat when the lords of the Empire ruled. They had far more freedom too, than they do under today's so-called democracy. I am of the old mind set. Protecting my planet - my family. That is my purpose in life. Sadly, there are those in the military, who think my goals are _quaint._"

He reflected upon her statement. "Do others think as you?"

She disregarded this question. "I am of the upper orders, yet, I have a soldier as my daughter's husband. He protects her family. There are others who also have done this."

"Political necessity is not an uncommon reason for marriage amongst humans, too." Picard sensed that he was possibly getting closer to some answers.

"I miss Cardassia, Lu-Cah. I miss my granddaughter. But I am not welcome there as long as the Military is in power."

"So you live here." Picard looked out a window toward the sky where a howling sandstorm was flailing against the barriers.

"You do not consider Hebetia XII to be a pleasing place to live?"

"I prefer the stars."

"The sands will do for the present time, Jean-Luc Picard."

He noticed the near-perfect pronunciation of her name."

She continued as if she had not seen his reaction. "Come summer we can go to the polar ice caps. The reclamation terrafarming there has been quite successful. There are many valleys that do not need shielding. And the underground fresh water oceans are pure enough so that every season, more of the land is reclaimed."

"Melinkah…"

"Yes," she sighed. Recognizing the intractability of his nature. "I really do recognize who and what you are, Jean-Lu-Cah Picard."

"And is that why I am here? Because you know my reputation…" He said these words as if they were a statement of fact rather than a question.

She finished her drink then poured them both some more brandy. "I was curious about Locutus of Borg."

For a moment, a blind unreasoning anger threatened to erupt as he thought of the Borg, wondering if they were, in a roundabout way, again responsible for the near-destruction of his life. He shook his head, trying to clear it as he followed what she was saying.

"And that is why you wanted me?"

"I thought that the human who could be a Borg, yet still defeat the Borg could serve some useful purpose here."

"What purpose?"

Instead of answering, she gestured off toward the central compound of her house. "We live in peace here, Picard. Even during the wars, there was peace here. Peace between the Humans and the Cardassians."

"No. There is no peace - only your control. You dominate everyone."

"Anyone is free to leave as they wish, Jean-Luc. Even you."

Her words shocked him, even as he tried to ignore the faint thread of hope that was spiraling into his heart. "What?"

"There is a ship outside of my gate - a trader's ship with Ferengi credentials. They've been by the shields for a few hours." She looked beyond the plaza toward the shimmering shields in the distance. "On board are humans and a Klingon. I did not know that a Klingon would trade for the Ferengi. But then, anything is possible in the universe, I suppose."

He didn't quite believe that she really was speaking about freedom to him.

"As you have discovered, my personal Cardassian physician does not care to treat humans. I would not wish to have any more unnecessary pain - or passion - inflicted upon you. There is reported to be a red-haired doctor accompanying the traders. She can remove the control device if you wish it to be gone."

He stood, wanting to race toward the door, yet wondering if it really, truly would be permitted. There was a control device in plain sight on her desk. He had to question if this was not yet another form of Cardassian torture.

"Go, if you have to leave, Captain Jean-Luc Picard." And then she turned to look at him - a look that was not quite pleading, yet almost as if she were asking him, her captive, for something. "If you stay… The Military will not always be in power, if I can help it. And when that time comes, Cardassia will need to have friends… who understand our ways as well as the ways of others."

His mind reeled with what she was implying. He was unsure of her motives, as if he could actually believe that there'd be any truth to her words…

An hour later, he still had not left the compound. Jean-Luc Picard was sitting in his private garden by a waterfall, below the bathing alcove. He was thinking about everything that had happened to him since Stardate 46360.8. And as much as the desire for returning home to his ship was great in his thoughts, the Starfleet officer was considering the question of his personal desires versus his duty to the Federation.

Picard finally stood, stretching to relax cramped muscles. From the very first moment when he'd learned of Melinkah's view of the future, he'd known the path he must follow in order to do his duty. He'd spent the past few hours seeking an alternate route. Still looking forward into nothing, he spoke out loud. "Sajah, there is a red-haired doctor with the traders. Please, I want to speak with her privately on board their ship."

"As you wish." She wondered if this doctor was the red-haired woman about which her Jean-Lucah sometimes spoke of in his dreams.

A while later, a solemn-eyed Sajah moved amongst her people in the village below Melinkah's compound, searching for the traders. They were easy to find at the only inn in this particular domed village close to the main compound. Other than the barkeeps, they were the only people in the room.

A tall man, with deep blue eyes was asking questions of the barkeep, about a horse master with no hair, between sips of the local spring ale. Sajah was aware of their eyes of the bartenders staring at her as she approached the strangers. They knew her to be a messenger from Melinkah.

A gentle tug on the sleeve of the local style robe that Kate wore got the doctor's attention.

"Doctor?"

Startled, Kate turned to look at the young woman. "How did you know I was a doctor?"

Sajah only politely smiled. "Our Cardassian doctor, Glin Carron, does not like to treat us - the Humans, that is." Sajah noticed the stares from the doctor's companions. The two men with the almost identical blue eyes were intently studying her. Yet the Klingon was ignoring her presence. Instead he was alertly inspecting every corner in the common room of the bar, as if he were expecting some unnamed danger to magically appear.

"And?" Dr. Pulaski hinted.

"I question his preparedness for future epidemics. Could you come and check our medicines to see if they are adequate or actually usable in case of a return of a plague? Or some other epidemic?"

"You've had a plague?"

Sajah nodded. "Salieri Fever. Five years ago."

"I'm sorry." Kate Pulaski stood, automatically deciding to comply with the young woman's request. It was Will who stopped her from moving away from their table. "Doctor, don't go."

Kate looked at Sajah, studied her for a moment, then sent a not-too-respectful glare in Will's direction. "Nonsense, Will. I've got my communicator. And I've dealt with greater threats than this young lady." She looked back at Sajah. "What is your name, young woman? And where are we going?"

"I am Sajah. The medicines are in Melinkah's outer storage units near the barrier."

Kate regarded Sajah with her innocent appearance, then scowled over at Will. "Fine. Let's do it." With that, she shoved her chair away from the table.

"Captain!" Will barked.

"Commander," she drawled, pausing at the door. "You were yelling?"

Kyle Riker continued to drink his ale. He'd learned the wisdom of not interfering with Kate Pulaski decades ago. "Let Kate do what she wants, son. You'll live a longer life that way."

Worf commiserated with his friend and commander, shaking his head. "Ca…therine Pulaski outranks you, sir."

"I am the captain of this mission," Will countered, whispering as angrily as he could.

"What mission, son? We're traders, remember? And I'm the one with the credits and the credentials in my pockets."

While Will was momentarily distracted by his father, Kate left. Kate was still smiling about her little victory over 'mother hen' Riker, when she got around to noticing where Sajah was taking her.

"Sajah, where are we going?"

Sajah pulled up the hood of her cloak, then opened up a doorway through the shields. There were lights along the perimeter, focused on the ship. She went outside as Kate followed, pulling up her cloak hood as well, for though it was a fair night by New Hebetian standards, the sands were still lowly swirling.

Kate was about to start questioning the woman in earnest, when she was startled by the sudden arrival of a man on horseback. The grey robed figure dismounted, handed the reins to Sajah and then approached Kate.

"Beverly…"

Kate dropped her hood.

The stricken look of recognition on Picard's face would haunt Kate for a long time. And then he took a step back. For a brief moment, she knew the depth of his disappointment, his total sense of loss at seeing her instead of Beverly.

_For he'd only wished to see Beverly one more time…_

Then the implacable captain's mask returned. He reverted back into a Starfleet officer, greeting her with, "Dr. Pulaski. Lost again?"

Kate accurately guessed the reasons behind his first reaction but prudently chose not to make mention of it. However, she did have to respond to his ludicrous question, considering what they'd undergone in order to find him. She couldn't help herself. She cackled. Loudly. And when she caught her breath, she thought to retort, "Nope. I'm just saving your life as usual, Captain. And there's not a damned thing that you can do about it."

Picard stiffened. But he said nothing in response. Instead, he turned to Sajah, ignoring the sympathy he saw in her eyes. Somehow, she knew that this red-haired doctor was not the one he really wanted to see. "Sajah, keep my friends busy for a while. I need to talk to Dr. Pulaski privately."

Sajah silently acknowledged his request and returned to the compound with his horse.

Kate blinked, surprised that Jean-Luc was still ordering people about. But, knowing that they clearly had a lot more to discuss than his bossy arrogance, she opened up the _Heinlein's_ hatch, and then went inside.

Before Kate could even draw a deep enough breath to launch into the tirade of a thousand questions, Picard simply said, "Doctor, I need your help." His dramatic words shut her up faster than any other method. He had learned a few tricks during their _Enterprise _duty in how to deal with her.

In the ship's sickbay, an hour later, Kate ran the last of her checks on Jean-Luc Picard. "Captain, you've been through hell, and then some." In spite of that fact that he should have been elated over being found, she thought that he seemed awfully worn-out. Depressed. "That device that I removed from your chest is as nasty a contraption as anything that I've ever encountered before. What it did to you nervous system alone…"

He interrupted her. "Am I recovered?"

"Yes. Somewhat. You need a couple of months of my tender loving care." She ignored his snort of disapproval. "I find it hard to believe that the people here willingly want those things planted in their bodies. Even the concupiscent settings can kill or do lots of damage if overused."

"The pleasure it can give is a very powerful incentive, Doctor."

Kate eyed him as he put back on his native clothes. "I take it you weren't tempted?"

"It was never by my choice, Doctor."

"Well, you need to recuperate from the sexual activity, too." She ignored his sudden angry glare. "It's a good thing that Beverly escaped from Celtris III."

His eyes widened as another piece to the puzzle of Madred fell into place. "_Mon Dieu…_" He now knew why Beverly had been lured to Celtris. Madred had been intending to use the torture device on Beverly. _Including the pleasure settings. _He shuddered to think of what could have happened to his beloved.

Kate recognized that there was a great deal that he had not told her, especially concerning his relationship with some of the people on this planet.

"You're going to have to undergo quite a few more treatments before you are thoroughly healed, and all the scars are removed. Or, you can let nature take its course and heal the old fashioned way. I'll leave the analysis of your mental state to your favorite Betazed counselor." Privately, she decided that she'd have a better assessment of Picard's mental state after she'd observed his reunion with Will and Worf.

She picked up the device. She watched as Picard's eyes followed her movements. "I'll want to study this device for a while. When I get the chance. So, what now, Captain?"

"Dr. Pulaski, I'd like to be left alone for a while. Then could you please inform Will and Worf that I'd like to see them alone…"

"Kyle needs to talk to you alone, too, Captain."

This surprised him. "Why?"

"Don't really know. But Kyle was the one who organized this little rescue party. He has his own reasons."

Picard nodded, suspecting what it was that she wasn't saying. "After Will and Worf, then."

Kate headed for the hatch. "By the way, _Captain…_"

"Yes, Doctor?"

"That woman, Sajah…"

"Yes, Doctor?"

"She's not pregnant. I just thought that you'd like to know."

He was about to revert into his affronted, angered, displeased captain's persona, a condition which Kate Pulaski had experienced far too often, when he realized what he was doing. And so he didn't do what she expected. He laughed.

Kate never expected this reaction. "What?"

Amused that he had disconcerted the lady, he explained, "Doctor, I appreciate your thoroughness. And your consideration."

Kate nodded, accepting his statement. She was coming to recognize that Picard had changed quite a bit since the last time that she'd seen him. "You're welcome."

Puzzled by yet another statement from a woman who had often confounded him, he merely looked at her, not quite comprehending her intent.

"_Thank you_," she called over her shoulder as she went to the hatch. "I'm sure that's what you were going to say next. I'll keep Kyle occupied while you have your chat with your '_boys_'."

Even as she walked into the compound to the inn, she was somewhat troubled by what she had observed in Captain Picard's manner. She had a nagging sense of foreboding that did not mesh with what should have become a simple rescue plan.

"Where the hell have you been?" was Kyle's way of greeting her, when she entered the common room. He hugged her for a quick kiss.

"Get a room," she whispered as she kissed him back. "Busy with a patient," she announced to one and all, for there were people now drinking at the bar. More quietly she asked, "Where's your son? Out wandering with Worf?"

"Went with that girl, Sajah. She said that she had something to show them. Worf thought that it might be about Picard. God knows what my son imagined she was offering."

"Somehow, I don't think that she was offering what women usually offer Will Riker, Kyle. The woman is in the service of Jean-Luc." Judging by the way Kyle's jaw dropped, Kate surmised that she had shocked him. Waving her hand to silence him, Kate sat down and ordered a large bottle of ale. It was going to be a long night. She tapped her comm badge. "Will, _baby_…"

"Kate?" She could hear the amusement in his voice at her choice of endearments. "Are you all right?"

Kate thought that the man sounded a little frustrated too. She wondered just exactly what Sajah had been showing them. Any woman who could earn the interest of Jean-Luc Picard was someone to be reckoned with. "Will. Go back to your ship. I left some answers there. Meanwhile, your father and I…well, we don't want to be disturbed."

"Is that an order, Ma'am?"

"Yes."

Chuckling, Will glanced about the large brick stable, home to about two dozen horses that were reputed to be _interesting_. "Thanks for the guided tour of your pets, Sajah. But Worf and I have to return to our ship." Noticing that Worf raised an eyebrow, Will added, "Captain's orders." Still trying to impress Sajah, he offered her his biggest, brightest high-voltage smile. She didn't notice. Wondering if he were losing it, Will left Sajah in the stable yard. Worf warily followed.

The ironic appropriateness behind Will's glib choice of words became evident when they returned to the _Heinlein. _Will was speechless when he saw who awaited them.

For the first time in months, Worf relaxed. His honor had been restored.

For a moment, no one spoke. Just the sheer relief of finding Jean-Luc Picard alive was more than enough for Will and Worf. Will hugged his captain within an inch of cracking a few ribs. But then there were questions requiring answers. They spoke words of truth amongst themselves, words of explanation, and even of friendship. And for a while, Jean-Luc Picard remembered what it was like to be amongst those he valued, to be the Starfleet officer that he had once been.

Displaying a subtlety of perception that had not always been evident on board the _Enterprise_, Worf announced that he was going to patrol the perimeter. He didn't quite believe that after all of the things that the Cardassians had done to get and keep Captain Picard, that they would permit the man to just simply leave. Besides, he sensed that Captain Picard had private matters to discuss with Will Riker.

"Tea. Earl Grey. Hot." These were the only words that broke the silence between the two men after Worf had left. Picard picked up his mug of tea, and then glanced over at Will. "Anything?"

Hiding his surprise at this unexpected courtesy from a man who usually never remembered such details, Will shook his head. Instead, he went over to his private locker and pulled out a bottle. "Brandy, sir. Genuine Napoleon. Admirals have fancy stocked liquor cabinets."

Picard took the bottle and went over to sit by the low table in the ship's lounge, a room tastefully decorated in various shades of ambassadorial grey. He ignored the sameness of the décor as he poured some of the cherry amber colored liquor into a glass for Will. And then he placed several information chips on the table. He picked one up, holding it into the light. "My resignation from Starfleet, Will. Please see that Admiral Nakamura gets it. The others are messages for my senior officers, my family, and Dr. Crusher. Oh, and my final report to Starfleet as well, as to what happened on Celtris III. I definitely wish to leave behind a record of Madred's actions. Dr. Pulaski has the record of what was physically done to me."

Will took the chip from him. Then he sat down in an armchair by the table and toyed with the rim of his brandy glass. Riker crossed his legs and leaned back into the chair. He had traveled too far, risked too much, to lose this man to '_circumstances beyond his control'_. He spoke softly, calmly, as if the words that he'd just uttered were commonplace between them.

"I don't believe you."

Picard had been expecting anger, denial even. But not this outright challenge. "You do not know my reasons, Will."

"You're right about that, Captain. I don't." Will leaned forward, bracing the palms of his hands against the table's inlaid Zaka wood top. "Care to enlighten me? Care to tell me why you're quitting. Care to give me some rational excuses as to why a Starfleet officer of your stature would choose to remain on a backwater little planet under the munificence of Cardassian rule rather than to return to his real life? What about Starfleet? And a starship that needs you?"

"_Desperately_?" Picard asked, sarcasm lacing his answer at he tried to remain reasonable with his former Number One. "I take it that the _Enterprise_ is still under Captain Jellico's command?"

"It doesn't matter who's in charge at the moment, Captain Picard. You're the man who should be sitting in the captain's chair. The _Enterprise_ is your ship."

"No."

The very way Picard denied the _Enterprise_ with such calm assessment stung Will Riker. "What the hell did those Cardassians do to you?" Will's rigid control over his mounting sense of anger and fear was beginning to crack. Rising, he unknowingly continued to raise his voice. "The Captain Picard that I've served under would never just calmly sit there and deny his ship, his life - his duty!"

Picard stood, facing Riker. He'd undergone unspeakable horrors during the past few months. But now, having to give up that which he held most dear in his soul was possibly his greatest trial.

"You don't understand, Will."

"Well then, dammit, tell me! Try to make me understand why you just want to disappear!" A sudden thought crossed his mind. "Are you worried about what you said when you were tortured? You didn't reveal any important military secrets. Starfleet knows too much about the Cardassian methods to blame or punish you for what happened. They won't hold it against you."

"And what if I hold my behavior against me, Will?"

"You'll get over it like you did with the Borg!"

"Will!"

The thunk of the hatch opening silenced Riker's response. Both men turned to look at Kate and Kyle as they entered the ship. Worf loomed behind them.

"Well, how's the reunion going?" Kate blithely asked. She deliberately ignored the tension in the room.

"Lt. Worf!" Will barked.

The Klingon stepped forward with a scowl. He was troubled by the climate between the two men. He could not remember such an antagonistic atmosphere between them in the past.

"Yes, Commander?"

"Captain Picard is not himself. Place him under protective custody in Sickbay." Will pivoted, facing Kate. "I want a thorough check-up on Captain Picard. Including psych profiles."

Kate shook her head. "I've already done the physical examinations, Commander."

Will reacted to her words. "You've already performed a physical on Captain Picard and did not see fit to inform me of his condition, Doctor? As well as neglecting to tell me of his presence?" Will no longer was a man worried about his friend. Instead, he had become an officer who could not believe his doctor's breach of protocol, even if she did outrank him. For all of their banter aside, he still was the captain of this ship.

Kate knew that what she had done out of desire to help Picard, the man, had been a mistake to Commander Riker, the Starfleet officer.

"I'm sorry, Commander. I was under the impression that Captain Picard wished to discuss matters with you privately. I was in error letting my sensibilities overrule doing my duty." She took a deep breath as she saw understanding, at least, in Will Riker's righteous glare. "As for further tests, I'm not rated for the kind of profiles that you want, Commander. We need a therapist or a psychiatrist."

"Well then, we'll just have to leave here and find one, won't we?"

Even Kyle was taken back by Will's sarcastic retort.

"You will not need either a therapist or a psychiatrist," Picard formally announced, in the clipped manner of speaking that indicated his greatest displeasure. "I am not staying on board." He moved toward the outer hatch only to have his path blocked by Worf.

But it was Kyle Riker who placed his hand on Worf's crossed forearms. "Move aside, Mr. Worf," he casually stated, nodding at Picard.

Surprised by Kyle's intervention, Worf looked to Will Riker, confused about what he should do next.

His response was nothing in comparison to Will's reaction. "Stay out of this, Dad!"

"I'm the reason you are here, son." Kyle looked almost apologetically at Picard. "For that, I am truly sorry, Captain Picard."

Picard no longer was guessing about what Kyle Riker meant. Missing pieces to the mystery of his life were beginning to accumulate.

But it was Kate Pulaski, a woman familiar with most of the twists and turns that made up Kyle Riker's personality, who gasped, "Kyle, you didn't! You couldn't!"

Taken at face value, Will already knew what his father had just told him. But Will knew Kyle too well. He should have suspected something. From past experiences with his father, he should have known that Kyle Riker would not have planned this hunting expedition only for his son's sake. That kind of fatherly concern just wasn't in Kyle Riker's nature.

"Explain," Picard ordered, choosing to sit down behind the table again, squarely facing Kyle, in a way relieved that he might finally be getting some answers to the questions that everyone else had avoided asking.

"If you're half the man my son believes you to be, Captain Picard, I am sure that you've already figured out most of it," Kyle stated, composed, in control.

"So, you and certain admirals in Starfleet Command, along with certain members of the Obsidian Order…" Kyle slightly nodded in agreement. "…saw fit to play with my life as if I were a mere pawn on a chess board. Conspiring…"

Kyle shook his head in denial. "Not a pawn, Captain Picard. A king, if you will…"

Picard understood. "A powerful leader who is only allowed to move one step at a time, the object of colluding secondaries." He reached over, picked up the brandy bottle, and poured a large amount of the liquor into his mug, drinking quite a bit of it before he put it down. "Did you know what was going to happen to me on Celtris III? Was that part of the plan, too?"

Kyle paused before speaking, glancing over at Kate, not quite knowing how to answer the man. "What happened to Captain Picard, Doctor?"

Kate looked at Picard, almost as if asking his permission, before she finally spoke. Her partial list of what the man had physically endured and survived shocked even Worf. Worf had always known that Captain Picard was a man of great courage and will. He had never just known the extent.

When Kate was done it was Will who yelled at his father, "_**You knew?**_"

Kyle didn't want to answer that question truthfully. "Not entirely."

"Meaning?" Will demanded.

Picard stared at the diplomat, this master manipulator that was Kyle Riker, comprehending that his whole life, his career, his welfare, and his captaincy had been sacrificed on the altar of other people's ambitions.

Jean-Luc spoke softly, every syllable clearly enunciated. "There were other officers. I'm not the first attempt, am I?"

Kyle grunted. "You are the first officer that Melinkah has not yet returned," Kyle admitted. "And you're the first that was so… mistreated. The Gul that did this to you… he wasn't part of the plan."

"Yes, he was," Picard calmly answered. "Gul Madred is Melinkah's son-in-law."

Kyle blanched.

"My God, you knew where Captain Picard was all this time and you didn't tell us!" Will roared at his father, shocked by the seemingly unfathomable depths of his father's treachery. "You let us waste our time, chasing after every rumor…"

Picard ignored the son as he focused on the father. "So what is my purpose here? I am to stay here and somehow aid and assist the Obsidian Order in their attempt to recover control of the Cardassian Union. Was that the plan? To ignore the Prime Directive in exchange for political stability?"

"Not exactly, Captain. You were to be placed in a safe, secure position inside of a powerful Obsidian family. You were to be used as a liaison between the Federation and the Order. Certain Cardassians believe that if their people come to know what we are like, they will be less likely to want to wage war against us every time there is an opportunity."

"And for this, you want to resign?" Will had given up trying to be reasonable. He was furious with his father, with his captain and even with his doctor. "You're subscribing to all of this idiocy, Captain Picard?"

Picard wearily denied Will's words. "In spite of everything that is morally wrong about what they have done, Will, there is some validity to their arguments."

"No!" Will denied vehemently.

This time when Picard stood to leave, Worf moved aside, standing at attention.

"Will we ever see you again, Captain?" Will sarcastically asked, for part of him did truly believe that if the man left now, he would never return. He'd lost Picard once before to the Borg. _Never again_. And he despised his sense of helplessness.

"In the morning."

With that, Jean-Luc left, more shaken up than he was ever willing to privately admit. Jean-Luc had disciplined himself never to think of freedom or of returning home to the _Enterprise_. And now, it was all within his grasp…

Before dawn broke, Talib came to the _Heinlein_ with a message from Picard. After scaring the poor messenger witless, Worf then accepted the message. Less than thirty minutes later, all of them were brought to the walled garden entrance of the private section of Melinkah's home compound.

Kate was the only one determined to behave in a thoroughly civilized manner. The ethical issues that lay between Kyle and herself would be discussed in the near future, when there was no chance of their privacy being disturbed. So, to Worf's great amusement, and Will's great annoyance, the lady was overly sensible and far too cheerful for the circumstances.

What irritated Will even more was that the lady was thoroughly enjoying the wearing of the long ecru aba robes that they had been given. She was dragging the lengthy tan panels about, and swirling and flipping them occasionally into Worf's footsteps.

As they stood before the solid iron door to the garden, Will hissed, "Behave yourself, Doctor!"

Kyle rolled his eyes at that impossibility.

She whispered back, "Well, I wouldn't want any glin to think that we're hiding weapons under these robes. If they know we're Starfleet officers, they're bound to be nervous. If we're easygoing, they'll be relaxed."

Will couldn't fault her logic, but her actions vexed him.

A moment later, the garden door swung open, and Sajah greeted them, taking their robes. Will automatically noted the grace of her movement and then her ivory and silver dress and leggings trimmed with fancy embroidery. She escorted them into the inner gardens and the rooms by the flower pool and waterfall. A long stone table had been set with breakfast offerings, though food was not foremost in their thoughts. Picard was standing there, dressed in native robes that were similar to Sajah's. The silver of his embroidery glinted in the sunlight.

Sajah left without saying a word.

"Silent type," Kyle mused.

"Not to everyone," Picard obliquely warned.

"Are you a prisoner here, Captain?" Worf blurted out, glancing about the area, seeing too many possible areas of potential danger to his liking. "Are we?"

But it was Melinkah, moving as silently as Sajah, who answered that question, as she entered the garden. "All of you are free to leave when you wish. But, only for a while. I am expecting a military vessel after the evening comes. I do not care to explain the presence of three Starfleet officers and a Federation diplomat to a gaggle of guls and their glins. It would not be a healthful encounter for any of us." She deliberately stared at Worf.

The first thing that Worf noticed, after deciding that she was not carrying any obvious weapons, was that this female was taller than him. The second thing he noticed was the challenge in her stance. She was establishing her position as a female warrior capable of facing him. There was a certain look in her dark eyes that seemed to indicate a willingness for such a confrontation. Unwillingly, Worf grunted a slight approval of her attitude. In some ways, he could understand others believing in her leadership. He grunted, more loudly. "What do you want?"

"Picard."

Worf almost laughed at this audacious statement. Worf could appreciate direct honesty. "I would die protecting him from you," he proudly stated.

"Not a promise to be given lightly." She swiftly turned, her ivory robes whirling about her sandals. She moved with an air of careless regality that bespoke decades of confident command, as she went to the table and picked up a small zarf, and filled it with dark, almost syrupy coffee. Its strong, sweet aroma filled the room. "This is a morning habit that I have acquired from you humans. Would you care for some?" Casting an eye toward Worf, she added, "There is fruit nectar."

Worf ignored her offer of hospitality. "Why?" he boomed.

She placed down her cup, and then rolled back the hood to her overdress so that it was framing her face..

Riker's eyes widened as he recognized the embroidered liripiping on the banding of the hood. It matched the embellishments on Picard's shirt.

Melinkah focused on Worf. She didn't pretend to misunderstand his curt question.

"Peace. Between my people and the Federation. Someday, my kind will return to power. I would prefer to have more allies, rather than more enemies."

"You way is not one of honor," Worf judged.

"My way is your way as well," she responded pointedly looking at Kyle.

Worf knew how he should respond to this provocation. But to do so would cast dishonor upon the name of his commander's father, and that would not be prudent.

Melinkah drained the pottery cup in its hand-hammered silver holder, then placed it back on the table. "I have other duties." She looked at Picard, who had not even moved during the exchange with Worf. She nodded. "If you decide to leave, Captain Jean-Luc Picard, do it soon. Be gone before sunset. I am expecting a visit from Gul Meercat later in the night." And with that, she left.

Picard ignored their somewhat perplexed reaction to Melinkah's departure. He jerked his head in Will's direction. "Walk with me," he ordered, sounding like the captain that Will had once served.

"Captain?" Will followed after him as they walked a winding, pebbled path past aromatic gardens and flower pools.

"My name is Jean-Luc, Will. I think it is time that you used it."

"Cap… Jean-Luc." Will considered the man for a moment, then faced him squarely. "You've decided to stay. You really believe all of this madness?"

"A segment of the Obsidian Order wants a true peace between the Cardassians and the Federation. They seem to need me." Picard went by the water's edge. "There are certain aspects to this place that I find pleasing, Will. In some respects, I would be gaining a kind of life that I did not have on board the _Enterprise._"

Picard did not enumerate his reasons.

Will understood though. "The Cardassians… how can you trust them? After what they've done to you, you're just going to stay with them and let them do whatever else they want and pray that you're making the right choice?"

Will wasn't saying anything to Jean-Luc that he had not already considered several times over. But none of these arguments could negate the possibility of what it could mean to the Federation if the Cardassian Union actually became a true ally instead of continuing to be a warmongering neighbor.

"Will, you and Worf… you're still assigned to the _Enterprise_, aren't you?"

"Well, Worf certainly is. I'm not so sure that Jellico will take me back."

Picard considered Will's words as well as the way that he had said them. Something about the way that Riker spoke of Jellico revealed to Picard the nature of his Number One's relationship with his new captain.

"Get over it, Will," he tersely ordered.

The reprimand shocked Will. He could still count on one hand the number of times that Captain Picard had ever rebuked him. "What, sir?" His voice held a stiffness and a formality that was in marked contrast to what had just been said.

"Your relationship with Captain Jellico. If you intend to stay on board the _Enterprise, _you must be Captain Jellico's first officer, Commander Riker. If you are to assist me in the future, then you must reconcile your relationship with your captain. Do you duty, Will. I've always expected it of you…"

"Even if it means that I serve Captain Jellico."

Picard nodded slightly.

Riker suddenly smiled, his decision made. "But I draw the line at having to mother-hen him. If he wants to go out on dangerous away missions, I will do my duty and warn him. But only once, though. And, I won't ever nag him."

"You should have said this to me years ago, Number One. I'd have endeavored to become more like Captain Jellico in personality if that's what it took to stop your infernal nagging." These words were dryly uttered, but were spoken with an underswell of affection.

For a moment, Will stared at his former captain. For now, he was beginning to admit to himself and to realize in his heart, that Jean-Luc Picard was no longer his captain. And then he laughed, almost a bitter sound, as he resented like hell the changes in his life that could be directly attributed to one Jean-Luc Picard. But if Jean-Luc Picard could be gallant enough to actually speak words of humor under the given circumstances, the least that Will could do was abide by Jean-Luc's decisions, even if he considered his friend to be mad.

"So, I'm to leave you in Melinkah's care."

"She is quite a formidable lady."

Will noted the change in Picard's attitude whenever he mentioned Melinkah. "Well, she's certainly made an impression on you."

Picard grimaced. "Not quite the way you think, Will. But I believe that both of us have some visions in common. That's why I have to stay - to see if such dreams can become possibilities."

"And if not?"

"Well, if _bon chance_ does not favor me, I will count on your ability to plan a dramatic rescue." The expression on Jean-Luc's face told Will that nothing short of kidnapping would get the man to leave New Hebetia XII.

The sound of footsteps on the gravel path caused both men to still. They turned and faced Kyle Riker.

Saying nothing, Will quickly walked away from his father.

Kyle sat down on a bench by the pool's edge. Reluctantly, Jean-Luc joined him.

"Why?" the former Starfleet captain quietly asked.

"You were the best candidate." With that, Kyle reached under his robes, and pulled out a small chip. "This is how to get in contact with me. Use it only under the most serious of circumstances. Names of undercover Federation operatives that you should be able to trust. Further instructions from Starfleet. Your orders. And authorizations."

"From _Section 31?_"

Kyle ignored the question.

Picard forged on. "I have two demands, Mr. Riker."

"If I can, I will fulfill them."

"If you cannot guarantee them, then I will not stay."

Kyle raised an eyebrow. "And they are?"

"First, if I ever wish to return to the Federation, you will comply. Get me out of here if necessary."

Kyle nodded.

"Secondly, I want Will Riker to become captain of the _Enterprise._ Not immediately, but some time in the not too distant future. Let Jellico have a year on board ship. Then promote him to the admiralty, and Will gets the chair."

Instead of protesting that he had no sway over such Starfleet decisions, Kyle just simply said, "Done." Riker stood. "You'll be getting regular updates through the Ferengis. Melinkah will be getting them too." Kyle thought for a second, then added, "Friends of the House of Quark, by the way. Quark's nephew is now a Starfleet cadet, if you can believe that…"

"Nice garden."

Both men tensed at the sound of Catherine Pulaski's voice.

Picard grimaced. This woman had a way of annoying him that few others matched. He turned to face her.

Kyle graciously spoke up. "I was just about to tell Jean-Luc that you were the one who planned our expedition. Lured Will away from the _Enterprise._"

Kate grinned. "And you are going to say…"

"Thank you."

Even Kyle could tell that Picard had said it through gritted teeth.

Kate moved between both men and linked her arms with theirs. "Well, I'm sure that you've said it about me before, Captain."

"And that is," the captain politely asked.

"That I'd do anything to get you in my debt one more time."

"Amazing…" Picard muttered.

"I'll take that as a personal compliment, Jean-Luc," Kate replied. "Now, let's go see if Worf or Will have left anything for breakfast." With a calculated look at Kyle's midriff, she added,. "Like father, like son. Insatiable appetites tend to run in families."

Two hours later, Picard said goodbye to his friends.

And his past.

Worf understood Picard's choice for several reasons, the first and foremost being because Worf totally accepted the man as well as honored the officer that was Jean-Luc Picard. Picard was forevermore his cha'Dich.

Picard knew that Will hated his decision, but was now reconciled to it. Will would do everything in his power to aid and assist Picard. There were moments when Picard wondered what he'd truly ever done to deserve the kind of respect and friendship that Will and Worf offered to him.

Their farewells were said in the lounge of the _Heinlein, _each staring at the other, trying to find the right words to speak in what was awkward, almost mawkish circumstances, an emotional situation that Picard detested.

"You'd best be going," Picard stiffly announced.

Much to his consternation, Kate hugged her former captain with great enthusiasm. She correctly guessed how much he was enjoying her attentions. Then she dared to kiss his cheek, whispering into his ear, "I'll see that Beverly gets your message. I'll let her know what you really felt when your red-hair savior turned out to be the wrong doctor."

"No, Doctor. Kate. Please." For a moment his gaze pleaded with her, trying to make her understand. "I don't want Beverly to wait for me. If I don't return…"

"I know," Kate agreed. "But I'm not going to give her your message chip and let her think that you don't care. Knowing you too well, I can only guess what you put in your words of farewell. And that is not fair to Beverly."

"Fair or not, do not do it, Doctor."

Kate did not care to agree, but she also didn't want to add to Picard's worries. However, some things could not be left unchallenged. "You can't order me about any more, Jean-Luc. Or did Will forget to mention my promotion?"

"I was informed of Starfleet's lapse of judgment."

Worf interrupted them. "We are being hailed. Captain. Melinkah."

Breaking away from Kate, Picard went to the closest view screen. "Yes, Melinkah."

"Shall I cancel your afternoon classes, tomorrow?"

"No." Picard closed down the communications and then looked at Will, sad regret mirrored in his eyes.

"I know, Captain. We're going. Last chance to change your mind."

Kyle came over to them. "Son, Picard knows what he has to do." Kyle then handed Picard several data chips. "You'll find it a lot easier to keep in touch using my diplomatic codes and local contacts rather than having to directly communicate with Starfleet officers from Cardassian space." He leaned in closer to Picard and whispered. "This is in addition to the other info."

"Understood. Thank you Mr. Riker."

Will Riker grinned as he added some discs of his own to the pile. "You'd better not forget any of Data's arrangements. He anticipated all contingencies. I think that Data takes an almost human enjoyment in cloak-and-dagger plotting. He's been reading too much 20th century fiction lately."

Picard understood as he briefly remembered the trying times of being in the company of a thoroughly enthusiastic Data. _And with these memories came the bittersweet reality of this future nevermore…_

"Thank you my friends, for all that you have done."

Will stopped him from leaving. "Oh, no, Captain. You're not getting rid of us that easily." He handed the man a large leather satchel.

Picard was surprised by the weight. "What is this?"

"Tea. Earl Grey. You gave me the impression that the Cardassians don't have the wherewithal or the replicators to make a proper cup of tea."

"Thank you, Will." Picard had nothing left to say to Will. His Number One already knew everything of importance.

"I guess that it will be up to me to see that you don't run out of tea leaves."

Picard shook his friend's hand one more time, then whispered, "Watch over my _Enterprise_, Number One." He acknowledged the others, saluted Worf, and then quickly left, not daring to look back.

"Damn." Will Riker spoke out loud, his opinion echoing the sentiments of everyone else on board the yacht. "_Bon chance_, Jean-Luc Picard."

On the surface, riding Kadisha to a distant hill outside the barrier, Picard watched the _Robert Heinlein_ take off against the fading radiance of the sunset. For once, the weather was rather calm outside of the shields. The sun would soon set. He would wait for twilight and the appearance of the stars. He was not that surprised when Melinkah rode up to him on her stallion.

"When were you going to tell me?" he casually asked, as he watched the con trail fade away.

"Tell you what?"

"About Sajah?"

"Yes, Lu-Cah?"

"This morning… the way she was dressed. She's a member of your family, isn't she? An adopted daughter, perhaps?"

"My brother married Sajah's mother. _There really is such a thing as a Cardassian/Human love match, Jean-Luc. _Sajah was just a young one at the time. After my brother's death, Sajah grew up in my household until she married. She was also great friends with my daughter Melin. So I permitted Sajah and her husband to join Melin on Cardassia Prime. In those days, Madred was trying to stay on my good side. I have always thought of Sajah as a beloved niece." She reached over and patted Picard's hand. "She's your responsibility now."

He accepted this information, but said nothing more.

Melinkah continued. "I did not know the extent of the torture that Gul Madred would do, Jean-Luc Picard. He was only supposed to capture you and bring you to me. For some reason, he changed his agenda." Still he said nothing to her. Finally she sighed, and grasped his arm, reaching across her horse's golden mane. "I am sorry."

Picard turned away from looking at the stars to view the compound beyond the protective shields.

"Duty calls."

His horse danced away from her.

She accepted his words. "Come back soon. The night cold can be deadly." With that, she whirled her golden horse about and left him.

A moment later he guided his horse on the pathway parallel to the shields. At first, Kadisha trotted. But soon, he was galloping toward a Farpoint goal. And when both rider and horse were nearing exhaustion, then and only then did he look up again at the few faint stars that could be seen, as if in his mind he was still seeing the path of the _Heinlein._

"_Five lights…" _His voice broke. The wind was picking up. And soon, the stars would be gone. "What price must I forever pay… _Five lights be damned!_"

=/\=

Jean-Luc Picard stood in front of his class of six to twelve-year-olds, and captured their attention, announcing in a quiet voice that they would be studying something new today. The children responded to his words, for they'd come to expect something interesting whenever he used this particular tone of voice. He passed out sheets of paper explaining, "The ideas on these pages are the basis, the foundation, of many great civilizations…"

He began to read, "When in the course of human events…" His voice flowed into the hearts and minds of his pupils as he spoke. "…we hold these truths to be self-evident…"

=/\=

Captain Jellico's expression did not alter when he nodded his permission for the _Robert Heinlein_ to transport over his two officers. He calmly stated his polite replies of farewell to Kyle Riker as the yacht went to warp. He saw no reason to change the status of the times when both Worf and Riker would be reporting for duty. It wasn't until he was alone in his ready room, that any sign of displeasure would be expressed.

His door chirruped.

"Enter," was his automatic response. Only by the slight stiffening of his back, did he make any sign that he was displeased by the presence of the man who had entered into his ready room.

"Captain," Will Riker politely said, standing at attention in front of the captain's desk. Even though, technically, he was still on leave, Riker was in full duty uniform.

"Commander."

Will took a deep breath. "Captain, permission to speak off the record?"

Somewhat surprised that Will was directly tackling the matter of discord between them, Jellico warily nodded. Then motioned for Riker to sit down.

It was the first time that Riker had been invited to sit down in the ready room with the new captain of the _Enterprise._

"Sir, we found Captain Picard."

This was not what Jellico had been expecting Will to say. Though he wasn't that surprised that Will and Worf had spent their leave searching for Picard.

"What?"

"We found Captain Picard. He's on a planet called New Hebetia XII in the Cardassian Empire."

Jellico nodded, accepting the words as truth. He considered Kyle Riker's hand in all of this. And realized that he would have to tread very carefully.

"And the reason as to why you are telling me this _off the record_?"

"There will be no official, public report. At least, not yet."

"And you are telling me this because?"

"You are my captain. At least, I think I still am first officer of the _Enterprise." _Jellico reluctantly nodded. "And I did not think that you should be in the dark about what has occurred. What Worf and I have discovered."

Jellico pondered Riker's words, and seeming change in attitude. "Let me guess - since we are speaking off the record - Jean-Luc read you the riot act about your recent behavior as first officer."

Will slightly smiled. "Something like that, sir. It took me a while, but eventually I understood the error of my ways."

"So, can you tell me everything?"

"Yes, sir." And Will did.

"My God…" Edward whispered when Will was finished with his report. "Picard wasn't the _first officer?"_

"No, sir. I was given the impression that there were two others before him. But Captain Picard was the first one that was almost tortured to death."

"I'm not surprised though, that Jean-Luc accepted. That man has always put his duty above and beyond everything else."

Jellico stood, stretched, and then went to his replicator. "Anything, Will?"

Shocked that this captain was even offering, Will nodded. "Coffee. Double cream."

Jellico came back with his milk and Will's coffee, placing the mug near Will.

"Does your father know that you're telling me?"

"No. I didn't think that he should know."

Jellico considered the relationship between the Riker father and son. The Machiavellian games that these two were playing was beyond his personal experience. "Will you tell anyone else?"

"Geordi. Beverly. And Guinan when she returns." Will mentally added _if she returns…_

Jellico nodded. "I gather that Mr. Data will handle any future contact?"

"Yes. Mr. Data was involved in this almost from the very beginning."

"And Jean-Luc's family?"

"Kate told me that she'd talk to them without giving them any specifics."

Jellico sat for a while, pondering this situation. "Commander, why did you tell me? From what you have revealed, there is no real reason as to why you needed to tell me."

"Sir, first, if Captain Picard does need rescuing, I'd prefer not to have to mutiny in order to get control of the ship."

Much to Will's surprise, Jellico actually smiled at this statement.

"I would not care for that either, Mr. Riker."

"And secondly, if something should go wrong, and I disappear, or whatever, I'd want someone that I could trust, independent of this mission to know the truth..."

Jellico understood. "Section 31."

"I don't know for sure that they are involved, but knowing my father, it is highly probable."

Will finished off his coffee.

"Thank you, Commander, for your consideration."

"I felt it was my duty, sir."

Jellico nodded, his mood suddenly lightening. He'd called Riker quite a few names since their first meeting. It was quite possible that one day he might include 'reasonable' as one of those appellations in the near future.

"Thank you, Commander. For your trust."

Will left the ready room with a small smile on his face. For the first time since Picard had been captured, Will Riker almost felt normal. _At home…_

=/\=

Jean-Luc walked into the area that he thought of as his bedroom. But the platform bed was missing. In its place were several sofas and divans. And a square table laden with an enormous blue and ivory floral display.

Suddenly, two bronze doors that had always been locked swung open. "This way, Jean-Lucah." Sajah held out her hand to him. "We've been moved to the south wing." Even as she led him showing him the rooms, she explained, "You have an office, and we now have a private bedroom, lounge and dining room. Talib and his wife Petra will serve us when needed."

She showed him his office. He was a bit surprised when he saw the communication equipment as well as the computer. Melinkah was trusting him with everything. He had not quite expected such open access.

She was quiet as she opened the door to their bedroom. "This is where you will now sleep, Jean-Luc" She motioned toward a curtained passageway. "That leads back to the bathing pool and waterfall if you wish to use them again. Otherwise, there is a private bath beyond that curtain." She nodded to the left of the hallway." She took a step away from him. "If there is anything that you wish, you need but to ask."

He was silent for a time, considering her words, and the way that she had said them. "And you?"

"It is as you desire."

"What about your desires?"

"Melinkah keeps insisting that I return to my studies. Perhaps I shall, now. If there is nothing that you must order me to do."

"I can think of nothing that I would _order._"

She nodded. "I've been studying interplanetary business management. Someone needs to take charge of the way our trades and deals are being made. Melinkah wishes for me to relieve her of some of this burden."

"Considering how you have managed me, I imagine that you will be very successful."

She stepped away from him then sat at the foot of a very large platform bed, covered in genetian blue silk and many, many pillows of various sizes.

She held out her arm to him. He stepped forward and clasped her hand, bringing it to his lips. He pressed a soft kiss against her knuckles.

"I know that I am not the one that you wish for…"

"If I were on board the _Enterprise_, I would be alone. That lady and I have had many chances to come together. It did not happen."

"Then, if you wish it…"

"What do you wish, Sajah?"

"After my husband died, I have been… _lonely._ I wish to be lonely no more…"

He pulled her up to him, into an embrace. "It has to be more than just loneliness between us, Sajah."

"Do you remember when we first met?"

"How could I forget."

"Well, you managed to get to the pool by yourself. But you could not make it back by yourself. So you permitted me to help you."

"It was the logical thing to do, Sajah. I didn't fancy falling flat on my face."

"Yes, but you were willing to let me help you. You are the only man on this planet with that kind of common sense. And considering what I've observed in the way males behave on other planets, you are a very rare man, indeed. That is when I decided to stay with you."

"I'm glad that you did."

"Truly?"

"Yes."

And then she kissed him. And after a while, when he was absolutely sure that it was what she wished, he kissed her back…

=/\=

Beverly sat in her quarters.

Alone.

The lights were low. The room was silent. _Empty_. And her heart was shattering with every breath.

Oh, she'd heard Kate's comforting words about the true nature of Jean-Luc Picard's personal regards. And there was even Will Riker's words of explanation, quietly uttered during captain's mess, where it had become apparent to all that Will Riker had acquired a major change of attitude. But none of this mattered. For she'd played Jean-Luc's message to her. She could not fault his decision. His devotion to duty. She just wished with all of her heard that his decision could have included her.

"Damn you, Jean-Luc. Why did you have to be so noble?" She stood, and went to the star portal to gaze unseeingly at the stars, unconsciously stiffening her spine. Heart-freezing tears streamed down her cheeks. "Until we meet again, you'd better be taking damn good care of yourself."

=/\=

_**Four years later…**_

"They are fine children, Jean-Luc." Melinkah smiled as she watched a young boy and his younger twin sisters with their ayah, play in the garden.

"Yes, they are."

Both stepped back into the cooler shadows of the salon overlooking the garden.

"You surprised me, Jean-Luc."

Jean-Luc raised an eyebrow, even as he poured two iced teas. He handed one to Melinkah as they both sat on the same sofa facing the garden.

"How so, Melinkah?"

"I had not expected you to wish to be a father - especially under the circumstances."

"Once I committed myself to your vision, Melinkah, I knew that I had a choice to make. I had not intended to get Sajah pregnant, but once it happened I had to show that I'd fully accepted my role in all of this. I am glad that I did."

"Thank the gods that you did. If only because the quality of the Hebetian wine has improved greatly since your arrival."

"And someday soon, we'll even be able to let the Federation know about the latest vineyard acquisition to Château Picard."

"Not to mention the fact that the Obsidian Order had a conniption over the thought that you'd married into a Cardassian noble family."

"Yes. I'm sure the reaction was similar at Starfleet Command when their spies told them."

"Your ship will be coming soon."

"It's Riker's _Enterprise_ now. I am a diplomat, remember?"

"Coming to take you to the peace conference." She smiled. "But in your heart, you have always been a starship captain. I truly regret taking that away from you, Jean-Luc."

"But peace for the future generations is an acceptable substitute."

She smiled in response. After a while, she whispered, "If only Sajah could see you now…"

He nodded his head, wiping away an unexpected tear at the thought of Sajah. His wife had died in a hovercraft accident eight months ago. After a thorough investigation by the Obsidian Order and Mr. Data, it was determined that it indeed had been an accident and not a terrorist act. That did little to ease the pain in Jean-Luc Picard's heart. And there were times, when Jean-Luc missed her presence greatly.

"Are the children going with you?"

"Yes. I've already made the arrangements. Talib and his wife will be accompanying us. Eventually, I'll settle the children with my sister-in-law Marie at my home in LaBarre. She's been a bit lost after my brother and nephew died."

"Will you bring them back?"

"Of course, Melinkah. Though you could come and visit…"

She snorted at that thought.

=/\=

Words could not express what Jean-Luc Picard felt when he materialized on board the _Enterprise._ They were all waiting there for him. Captain Riker, his wife Deanna, Lieutenant Commander Worf, Commander Data, and Captain Doctor Beverly Crusher.

He was hugged by them all.

But it was Beverly's greeting that surprised him. She kissed his lips, briefly. And then she smiled.

He stepped back, his Ambassadorial ivory robes, swaying about him. He'd become accustomed to wearing such robes during the past few years.

The sound of the transporter materializing beings filled the room.

Picard turned to face the platform. Talib and his wife, and the three children appeared.

Suddenly everyone in the room was silent.

Jean-Luc knelt in front of the three toddlers, and hugged each one of them. Then he looked up at Beverly.

"Everyone. Beverly, these are my children. This is my son Jean-Robert, and my daughters, Tasha Marie, and Beverly Deanna."

=/\=

Months later, Jean-Luc Picard sighed deeply. It was a spring night, and he was alone, staring at the moon, sitting on an old oak bench, leaning against a blossoming apple tree in his orchard at LaBarre.

The long diplomatic conference was finally over. Finally, all the parties had agreed to the basics: borders, mutual peace and protection pacts, aid, and rebuilding support to all the planets that had suffered from the Breen. And the Dominion War.

The military had been defeated on Cardassia. And Melinkah was now one of the council of leaders who ran the Obsidian Order. Picard's connection with the lady had been a primary force behind the Cardassian delegation coming to terms with the Federation.

He breathed deeply of the air, perfumed with the scent of apple blossoms. For the first time in a very long time, he felt truly relaxed. For the present, everything that needed to accomplish, had been done. He could finally rest. And reflect.

_Had he really done the right thing?_ His head told him to be proud of what he had accomplished. But his heart still ached - for lost loves and missing loves. And, as it all had begun, he was still alone. _Always alone... _Though he had a family. And for that he was grateful, in spite of everything that had happened to him.

His thoughts went to Gul Madred. The Gul had died during the first battle of the war. And no one had questioned the manner of his death. Yet, Picard could not help but wonder at the irony of a man so full of hate, being a factor in bringing about peace between the Federation and the Cardassian Empire.

_Life truly was strange at times…_

Almost an hour later, as he tracked the path of the full moon in the sky, he became aware of a lone light coming closer to him. At first, he didn't recognize the woman carrying the lantern.

And then his heart stopped beating.

_Beverly._

He had not been alone with the lady since the moment that he'd returned to Federation space. He knew that she'd been avoiding him when he'd been on board the _Enterprise_. And he chose to not force the issue between them, as he honored her apparent wishes.

But now, she was here in LaBarre. His heart could but wonder why.

She was dressed in some sort of silvery blouse with billowing sleeves and a long skirt. Her hair was long, about her shoulders. She had not changed her perfume. It was still the same scent that had bewitched him over twenty-five years ago.

As she approached him, he saw her smiling at him in the moonlight.

And he breathed again. Relaxing.

"Beverly…" he whispered, as she took his hand.

She came close, and then pressed a soft kiss against his cheek. "Jean-Luc…" Her smile broadened. "The children are finally sleeping. It took a while."

"Let me guess. Marie was telling them the harrowing adventures of their ancestors during the Terror."

"Complete with vivid details of Madame _Guillotine_."

"I remember such tales from my childhood."

"Well that explains a lot about the way your turned out…"

He chuckled. And just held her hand, taking in the moment. For a while, she just leaned against him, resting her head on his shoulder.

It was Beverly that broke the silence between them. "You're surprised I came, aren't you?"

"Considering how ably you avoided me on board the _Enterprise, _and then afterwards during the conference, then, yes I am."

"I didn't want to disturb you."

"Madam, your mere presence has always disturbed me on some level. I could have handled it."

"Perhaps I was the one who couldn't handle it…"

Jean-Luc didn't say anything, since he sensed that this was the real crux of the matter.

"It was one thing to lose you…" she whispered. "But then, you had to go and sacrifice yourself for Starfleet and the Federation…"

"I really did not have a choice, Beverly."

"I know that. Even if everyone else thought that you did, I knew better. You and your damned sense of duty."

Again, they said nothing more for a little while.

"I didn't expect that you would marry," she softly admitted. "That did hurt. Though I was happy for you. I was glad that you weren't alone."

He nodded. "You would have liked Sajah if you'd have ever met her. She was Melinkah's niece. And she seemed to know, from the very beginning, what it was that I was meant to do. She did everything she could to help me reach that goal."

"But was she a companion to you?"

"Above and beyond the obvious, you mean?" Beverly nodded. "Yes, she was a friend as well. We talked together long into the night, on occasion." He chuckled. "Especially after Jean-Robert was born. He was a colicky baby. There were a few months where no one in the compound knew any peace - day or night. The girls were different after they were born. "

He waited for Beverly to ask _the_ question. Yet, she did not.

"I _did_ love her, Beverly." He felt her nod her acceptance of this against his chest. He put his arm around her shoulders, his fingers idly playing with her long hair. "It was a quiet sort of love. I didn't really recognize what it was at first. It was only when I was away from her that I realized there was an absence in my life. I was missing her." He looked up at the stars for a moment. "I even told her what I truly felt, after our son was born. I am glad that I did. That she knew, before she passed away. She was taken from me so cruelly. So swiftly. There are times when I still can't believe that she is gone - especially when I am with our children."

"They are wonderful children, Jean-Luc."

"Yes, they are. But they're too smart. You're going to have to reveal to me all of the secrets that you used against Wesley when he was their ages."

"Wesley…" She suddenly grinned, raising her head. "I bet that you never thought you'd be dealing with him as a Federation diplomat."

"True. His face at the conference was a surprise. A good one though."

"Yes, I thought he was going to study the cosmos for a few decades before he returned to his mother."

"I was under that impression as well." He picked up her hand, and entwined his fingers with hers. "Beverly…"

"Yes, Jean-Luc?"

"Now, what?"

"Meaning?"

"Beverly, you're here. Not at Starfleet Medical. Or any of the other places you hid out when I've been around before. So, why now? Why, here?"

"Why do you think?"

She lifted his other arm from her shoulder, even as he groaned out loud.

She surprised him by sliding over, onto his lap, nestling closer.

"Beverly?" _She couldn't possibly mean what he hoped she meant…_

"We've loved each other a long time, Jean-Luc. I no longer need to feel afraid any more. I lost you, Jean-Luc. And my greatest regret is that I didn't tell you that I love you. Or show you. I don't ever want that to happen again." And with this statement she kissed him.

He was surprised by this action - but not that surprised. He kissed her back, gently at first, but then with a rising passion.

He broke the kiss. "Beverly? You love me? And you must know that I love you. _Is it time?"_

"Yes, Jean-Luc. It is _our_ time, now."

"Finally…" was the last coherent word he said…

The End.


End file.
